


The Calling of the Sea

by ma_r



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, F/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Rituals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ma_r/pseuds/ma_r
Summary: Captain Arthur Pendragon a feared pirate known as the Killer of the Sea, is searching forsomething.Merlin doesn't know what thatsomethingis, but when he finds himself captured by the pirate and unwillingly involved in the search, he has no other option but to use his talents as a translator to help the Killer of the Sea find a treasure that Merlin suspects is worth more than gold.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For information about the potential triggers in this story check the Author's Note at the end. Beware of Spoilers for the whole story.
> 
> TW for this chapter: Attempted Rape, Graphic Violence.

**Part 1**

In every legend about the sea, there is a creature and all the stories start the same: a brave young man, who had a thirst for adventure, set sail to the seas.

Once he is sailing on the blue seas he meets a monster.

The monster, as they tended to be, was strong and dangerous, and there was beauty in their danger. The same way a lightning storm could be beautiful. Their beauty was appreciated as the young man and his shipmates tried desperately to escape the beautiful monster.

Fate did not want their escape, the cruel mistress wanted blood and She got it when the shipmates of the brave young man were killed without mercy, their blood coloring the ship and the ocean red.

The young man was spared thanks to his skill and luck to tell the tale of the massacre and to bow revenge against the monster that had taken countless lives without once blinking in remorse.

But, as the young man searched for the elusive killer, as it sailed the seas and tasted the wind, he would find himself lost, perhaps physically, perhaps metaphorically, but it was then that the young man would meet a beautiful young woman. And the young woman tasted like salt, and she knows about the call of the sea. And for a brief and ephemeral moment, the man can forget about his mission. But then a dream, a memory, a word, _something_ reminds him about the bow for revenge he had made as a ship had sunk and as the sun had set. And he leaves his love in a shore, alone and with a promise of his return. The young woman stays there and she cries on the shore and waves him goodbye after giving him a round silver locket with her image carved inside of it.

And then after a year of searching, the young man finds the monster, but the monster has the face of his love, and her voice is the same that had sunk thousands of sailors to their death.

She has no legs, nor feet or toes that had played hide and seek on the sand. Instead, there is a fishtail that blends perfectly with the depths of the ocean, full of muscle and strength. And the young man fights to understand but he doesn’t and he never would.

Because the woman, the mermaid, the monster, gives him a bundle covered in algae and coral. And then there is a baby crying in the arms of the man and the mermaid tells him, _'he is yours’_ and ‘ _he can’t be with me’_ and she promises _‘I will return to both of you.’_ And then the mermaid, his love, disappears into the ocean, swallowed by the ancients depths and all of the mysteries it holds.

The young man would then look at the bundle of his arms and would remove the algae and the coral that had kept the baby warm. 

He would see the same blue eyes of the mermaid, the same blond hair, but he would see his lips and eyebrows and know that the mermaid’s words are no lie, no trick. And as the man would watch his son, he would see the way the skin of the babe turns softer and how his little feet and little hands lose some of the blue and green colorings his mother’s tail had. And when the colors fade completely, the young man, completely immersed, completely in love, would forget about his bow of revenge and make a new one, one of protection and care and this one, this one no force on earth would be able to break.

And the baby would grow on land, brave and beautiful.

He would glance at the ocean and know that there is something more out there, something that is waiting for him. He would feel complete only when he was standing on the shore, the waves lapping at his feet. The sand, rocks and broken coral grounding him. And his father, the young man, would always worry. Because he knew about the alluring call of the sea, knew about the craving for adventure, but his son was so small and his eyes were so big with wonder and the young man was afraid that he would lose him to the seas, the same way he had lost his mother, the same way he had lost his friends and so many many things. But he also knows there is nothing he can do to keep his child on the land, there is too much of his mother on him.

And so the baby grows, and with him the call of the sea grows louder and stronger, until it overpowers anything else. Until the young man, now old, can do nothing to keep his son home, so he teaches him everything he knows about navigating the seas and gives him a blessing, from a father to a son. From an old sailor to a young, for safe passage through the seas.

**Part 2**

Uther once told Arthur that he was destined for the seas.

Uther had been standing on the shore, his gaze on the horizon, his skin brown from the sun, he had smiled at the setting sun as he gave Arthur a blessing for a journey into the seas and a small locket that contained the image of his mother. The son had ignored the words of what he thought was a sentimental old man who liked to tell stories about his glory days as an adventurous sailor and he had left his father on that beach. Uther gazing at the horizon with desperate want.

It was the last time Arthur saw his father.

Arthur had run to the sea like a desperate man, had taken the first job he was offered that involved him setting sail. The work of a cabin boy kept him busy and tired, the sun on his back and salt-air left his skin raw and his hair light and soon, he forgot about his father last words. And as the words faded from his mind, the possibility of him knowing about what was to happen faded with them. Arthur would never know the layered history that existed behind that small sentence.

But he would know the wind on his face, the sun on his back and the taste of salt on this tongue. Arthur would know the stars and the map they hid. He would know the sea and he would know his home. But still, he would remain ignorant, because yes, Arthur was destined for the seas, destined for knowing them and loving them, he was destined for living and thriving under their constant watch and their explosive temperament, but Arthur was not destined to them.

Arthur belonged to the sea, he was their child with the land, he was a mix, an oddity and the sea always claims back what it gave, and it had given breath to Arthur.

But all of that was later in a far away future.

Now, Arthur was just working as a cabin boy. His hand hurting from scrubbing and fetching. He was just fifteen, his limbs were too long for his torso, his nose looked too big for his face, and his hands were rubbed raw. And even though the work was hard and he spent his days on his knees cleaning and mopping until they ache, even if he sleeps poorly and eats badly even if his crewmates whisper harsh-words and the captain looks at him in a filthy way, Arthur had never been happier.

The boat is on constant motion, the ocean shimmers with a thousand colors during the day and rocks him at night, and he feels safe in a way he had never felt before. Oh, he knows of the dangers, has heard all about them, about how the sea can turn on you and drag you into its dept, about how sharks circle boats and rip arms of those that grow careless, about all the monsters that lie beneath the surface. He knows about the storms and the pirates and also the navy and how they take as much as the pirates do. He knows all of this, and still… he is safe.

He feels it on his bones.

And so Arthur worked and bled, he went hungry and without sleep but he was still happy, still safe.

It was one of the days when he had to go hungry that Gilli, the other cabin boy, the one that was smaller and in some ways more vulnerable that Arthur, was caught stealing some moldy bread, he had gone two days without food, and the cook caught him with his hand on the bread, there had been nothing to do, but punish him.

The seas were unforgiving, but the man that braved them, more often than not, lacked compassion. So Gilli was tied to the mast, where he was left until they found a port to leave him in, without pay and without a way back home. And that means that Arthur’s duties double.

His knees are bruised, his hands bleeding and still he has more work to do, that is why he is still on deck when night falls, why he remains there as storm clouds gather in an unusually fast fashion and why, when the rain and wind started picking up and making everything wet and cold, he is still there. Why he is there when the storm turned for the worse, why he is there when the other crewmen are awoken so they can do what they can to survive the storm that is steadily growing worse, he doesn't know. He feels stuck on his place, there is something that is holding him on his spot on the ship, that is making sure he is where he is as thunder and lightning make the night feel frightening.

He stays there until the storm passes. When it does, dawn is breaking, they lost two men, one of the canyons and some of the barrels full of potable water. And Arthur is still stuck on the same spot, watching as the tired crewmen make their way down, as some try to repair the damage, and he stays there, until Valiant, the captain, bumps into him, making him lose his balance and fall. The impact jars his knees, and the captain is looking down at him, sneering, but Arthur can see that look, the one that makes him avert his eyes and try to hide in the shadows.

He has heard about what the captain does behind closed doors. The cook and his assistant had told him to take care, to always look away, to do what he could to not draw attention, of any kind. To obey orders without reproach, to behave in a way that portrays friendliness but to keep his distance as to not portray another kind of interest, to not be open or displayed.

All of it great advice, except for the fact that if the captain, an older and stronger man, or even someone who had more power than him in the hierarchy inside the ship took an interest in him, Arthur would have no way of refusing, no way to defend himself.

And the captain was still leering at Arthur, his gaze traveling the awkward expense of Arthur ’s body, as Arthur’s legs trembled with both fear and exhaustion while he rose his feet. Unsteady in a way he had never been while at sea. He left, feeling the intense gaze of the older man on him all the time.

When he finds himself in the small corner he calls his bed, he finds the place completely destroyed, the crates and everything that had held his blankets having tumbled down, burying down the only place Arthur could rest and for a moment, he gets angry. Imagining someone playing another one of their cruel jests on the new and only cabin boy. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. But he had thought that he was finally gaining the respect of some of his crewmates, the way he knew Gauis, the cook and Balinor his apprentice, respected him. Maybe even some of the more experienced ones, like Leon and Gwaine, but it was probably just wishful thinking. The mess just confirmed it.

Tired, irritated and downright angry, Arthur moved some of the mess before laying down on it, falling asleep within seconds. But just before sleep took him completely, the thought occurred to him that maybe the culprit for the mess was the sea itself and the reason he was alive was because of that force, that needs to stay above on the deck.

The following days progressed the same way they tended to do. Arthur enjoyed the sea and the wind, took great care of being careful and on keeping a low profile as he moped the floors and fetched and carried at the wimps of the people in positions above him.

More days passed, he grew more comfortable with the crew, learned more about their lives at a port and the people they had left behind, listened as they talked about returning home and setting their feet on dry land again and grew confused when they expected Arthur to feel the same, to relate to them.

Soon, he has finally made friends with most of the crew.

Leon, for example, had found Arthur taking refugee from the unrelenting sun underneath some of the extra sails and they had gotten to talk. The older man had been kind and had laughed at Arthur dumb jokes and after that they often found themselves talking to each other during free time, sharing secrets and emotions during the night. Until Arthur considered him his best friend. And Leon took potential risks to steal some of the captain’s food to share with Arthur. He was caught once, but it was by Gwaine.

Gwaine constantly annoyed Arthur. But he was fun and protective of Arthur. He was vocal on his dislike of the captain and didn’t care if some of the captain’s men were close to him to hear his mouth off because he was the best swordsman on the ship and his help was undisputable. So they had to suck up and hear a scruffy and lazy looking man tell the truths about the captain to anyone who would listen.  
  
Gwaine wasn’t alone on his feelings. Valiant was a disgusting and cruel man. He had the biggest rations of everyone, but if he didn’t finish eating them, he would throw them overboard in front of those that receive little to no food. His punishments were excessive and sometimes unnecessary. He spilled and broke things on purpose to make more work for others. In short, Valiant was the opposite of honorable and his inner circle, those who were loyal to him, only were because it was a matter of convenience.

There were others that he befriended, Galahad, Gaius, and Balinor amongst them, until finally, he considered most of the crew his friends, but the more he befriended them, the more he was warned to stay away from Valiant. To keep as far away as possible from the man. It worked for a time, he was able to remain anonymous in the ship, until another storm hit the ship. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, just some strong winds and powerful rain. Still, Arthur found himself once more on the deck, stranded and held fast by the same force as the last storm.

Once again, Valiant had crashed into him, making him fall. This time Valiant took his time in gazing at Arthur while Arthur tried to regain the feeling on his legs. He looked up and meet Valiant’s eyes. They were cruel.

“Come with me, boy.” He had spat. He grabbed Arthur by his forearm and dragged him to his feet, the rain wetting their hair and making the floor slippery. As Valiant dragged Arthur to his room, they passed some of the crewmates Arthur had befriended, Leon and Gwaine looked at him with pity, but their gazes were full of anger, and Arthur was still stuck, feeling like he couldn’t move.

He was aware that something terrible was about to happen, and he had thought that maybe, if it ever did, he would be able to fight his way to freedom, incapacitating his aggressor and moving on. But the reality is much more terrifying. Valiant’s grip is bruising and clammy, and Arthur’s legs are useless and his mind is locked with panic. He can see Valiant’s erection outlined in his pants and flashes of the passway that leads them to Valiant’s chambers.

He is thrown into the bed and he tries scrambling away. Refusing to believe that this is happening. But Valiant is on him before he can do anything, removing his own shirt with incredible strength, and growling at him to stay still.

It is at that moment that Arthur starts fighting. When Valiant removes Arthur’s pants and grips at Arthur’s soft cook, the touch repulses Arthur. He is kicking and screaming and doing what he can to dislodge the older man.

Valian hits him, drawing blood from Arthur’s lips and forces him to turn until Valian is holding Arthur down with his weight and the captain’s erection is grinding against Arthur’s ass.

His struggle intensifies until he somehow his elbow manages to make contact with Valiant’s face with enough force for the man to momentarily let him go. With his advantage, Arthur manages to escape the captain’s hold, trying to run for the door, until the older man catches him by the shirt, ripping away the only thing that still covered Arthur’s body. Arthur screams once more, pleading for help and knowing that none would come. He might be friends with the crew, but the captain and his followers would hold them back and keep them from helping.

Still, he is standing, and the force that once was holding him back is now helping him fight back, he scratches and punches until he sees a silver and gold dagger lying on Valiant’s desk. He lunges for it at the same time Valiant notices it. He is grabbed by his wrist, but he twists until he grasps it with his left hand and before he knows what he is doing, he is bringing down the knife until it sinks on Valiants chest. Valiant staggers and Arthur takes the knife off and stabs him again. Ignoring the noises Valiant makes and the sounds of life leaving Valian’s body.

Arthur is crying and gasping as he stabs him once more. Until the older man finally drops to the floor, dead.

Arthur rises the knife once more, wanting to stab the bastard once more, just once more, he is hysterical, wild, but he is drenched in blood and the moonlight is coming from the window making the knife glitter, and Arthur, for the first time since he spotted it, looks at it.

The handle on his hands is made of metal, it's warm to the touch and it feels anchored to his hand, it looks like it's made of gold, with a silver rope around it. The blade itself is sharp and made of iron and it's drooping red and rich blood into the floor and into Arthur himself. The blood moves faster than Arthur would have thought possible and suddenly he is mesmerized by it. He carefully lowers the blade until he has it at chest level, and inspects it carefully. As the blood drops, he extends his right hand to catch the drops until they pool on his palm and stain his fingertips. He raises his hand and then he is smelling the blood, and the smell is wonderful. Its rich and sweet and the metal undertones of it draws him to taste it.

The first drop of blood that passes through his lips alights him. He suddenly finds himself powerful. All the energy he had drained during the fight suddenly returned to him. Before he even knows what he is doing, he is licking his hand clean and then bringing the knife to his mouth to lick and suck at the blade, taking all the blood and the power it comes from it.

He feels like he is shaking in place, his blood pumping against his hands, his heart trying to beat its way out his chest.

When the blade is clean, he looks down at Valian’s body and for a moment thinks about scooping down and taking some of the blood that has pooled beside the body, but the sight of it reminds Arthur why he is in the room and suddenly he wants out. He runs. Not thinking about where he is going or how he looks, the force inside of him calling him to the sea, to the open air, until he is passing Valiant’s closest circle of crewmates fighting some of his friends until he is next to the rudder, panting and afraid, but relieved, because he can see the sea.

There are people after him, trying to catch him, to punish him for killing the captain. They try to grab him, but Arthur turns around and slashes and stabs with the dagger that still in his hands until he is once more surrounded by blood and bodies. He is panting in exertion, and when an arm grabs him, he is raising the dagger once more until he sees that is Leon, and suddenly, the strength he had, the power and the need to get away, fade.

Later, the legends will speak about a boy, who thought himself a man, and found himself in the sea, because it called for him because the boy wanted adventure. They will talk about the moment he became a man, having no choice but to step away from the small innocence he still had. They will talk about the way the blood had baptized him, about the way the dagger became a symbol of his freedom and rebellion. They would speak of his inhuman strength and about the way he had looked so beautiful naked on the moonlight, with his eyes shining blue and his hands dripping red.

The would not talk about the way the boy had sobbed on the arms of his friend. How he had crumbled and broken as his new crew watched him, how he had helped throw the bodies to the sea and watched silently as they were devoured by the creatures that lived in it. That would remain a secret.

The sea had finally claimed what had always belonged to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Trigger Warnings (Spoilers for the whole story):_ **
> 
> **Mentions of rape**  
>  This story mentions rape. It's often in reference of other people and not the main characters. Its mostly on Chapter 1 and 5, but could be mentioned in other chapters. 
> 
> **Attempted rape:**  
>  An older man (Valiant) tries to rape Arthur who is just fifteen. Arthur is naked and there is some nonconsensual touching but there isn't any penetration (Chapter 1). 
> 
> **Graphic Violence:**  
>  Arthur stabs Valiant multiple times until he is dead (Chapter 1)  
>  Merlin kills a woman by stabbing her on her side (Chapter 5)
> 
>  **Past Abuse:**  
>  One of the characters meets a woman he was in a relationship with. The woman is abusive (Chapter 6 and 7) 
> 
> **Past Drug Abuse:**  
>  A character was previously addicted to opioids, the discussion isn't graphic and the story isn't explicit. It doesn't focus on how they became addicted or how they stoped using, but it is mentioned. (Chapter 7) 
> 
> **Dubious Consent.**  
>  Merlin and Arthur engage in sexual acts all of them consensual, but since: _a)_ Arthur is Merlin's captor and has power over him and _b)_ Merlin is an untrained empath and could potentially affect Arthur's decision making, this consent is dubious. (Chapter 7) 
> 
> \---
> 
> WELP, here I am, back on my bullshit.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin did not like the sea and the sea didn’t like him. He was land-locked, the earth and the rocks his ever-present companion. He had lost way too many people to its treacherous waves and hidden depths and had found himself afraid.  If he ever found himself on a boat, he would grow seasick in an instant, he would fall and stumble thanks to a combination of dizziness and the wet floor. There was nothing about the sea that Merlin liked. 

Nothing about it that evoked good memories. 

Since he was young his mother had tucked him into bed, and she would tell him  _ the sea has many secrets and those secrets are not for you to know.  _ And then she would blow out the candles on his bedside table and then, when she thought Merlin to be asleep, would whisper.  _ Not yet at least.   _ And Merlin would have nightmares about the monsters that lived in the deep waters and how they would drag him to its depths. 

His mother would sometimes wake up in cold sweat and she would come to Merlin with eyes that had turned gold and would talk to him in a voice that was not hers, and she would tell Merlin:  _  the sea once had a daughter as beautiful as gold, the daughter loved her mother, but she loved a man more. So, the daughter left her mother and traveled abroad, where she had a baby, a boy more beautiful than gold. The daughter returned home and left her baby abroad. The baby wanted his mother, so he looked for her at the shore and when he found her, the sea had no more secrets to hold.  _

And the next morning, when Merlin would ask her about what she said, his mother wouldn’t remember. 

Merlin did not like the sea and the sea didn’t like him

But he still found himself standing in the middle of it. Because everyone knew that there wasn’t work on the islands or the mainland. Especially not for recently orphaned bastards. But there was always a ship that needed new hands, new people to clean them, maintain them and guide them. 

And so Merlin found himself abroad a merchant’s ship, doing what he could to help and looking at the gold and riches they transported with greed, only able to catch passing glances as he made his way towards the captain's chambers to report.

He caught glimpses every day. 

The captain, for reasons Merlin didn’t understand, liked it when Merlin went to report just before mid-afternoon. It wasn’t part of his job, nor was it his responsibility, as a translator, he knew practically nothing about running a ship, but he did it anyway, and told the captain that the ship was running as smoothly as the day before. And every day, he passed the chambers with the treasure and wanted. 

At nights, he joined the crew on the dining room. He usually sat on the floor and he ate and drank as the crew talked and told tales. Most members of the crew were from different parts of the world, different cities and sometimes different continents and their tales about the seas varied a lot. Some nights, the stories were about the Kraken, other nights, about the mermaids, or the storms that plagued the seas. The more experienced ones talked about the battles they had survived and the men they had killed.

Usually, the conversations always happened one atop the other and no one was able to finish the stories they started. Except for one occasion, when an old man rose from his chair and proclaimed proudly: “ I survived an attack by the Pendragon.” 

When the name was uttered, the crew fell silent and their eyes turned to the men.  It might have been Merlin’s imagination, but the candlelight suddenly made everything on the room look darker and foreboding. The name also seemed to invoke a chill in the air, and everyone, for just a second, retreated into their own memories about what that name meant. 

For Merlin, the name meant destruction, death, and blood. It meant to control, power and fear.

For others, Pendragon was the most feared pirate in the seven seas. Able to elude capture for years, leaving little to no survivors as he plundered ships and harbors for gold and treasure. It was said that Pendragon drank the blood of his victims and owned his success to the blessing of an old sea witch. The stories spoke about a man who was stronger than a dozen, that moved with the grace of a dancer and could fight better than most navy soldiers. They spoke about the beauty that could be found in the eyes of the dead. And, as famous as Pendragon was, his crew was just as well. No one knew their names, but they knew stories, a crew able to defeat an armada of navy ships with just one canon and the wits of a group of men who could fight against death and win. 

Merlin believed all of it to be a bunch of bullocks, stories exaggerated thanks to the fear the name invoked, making a man a legend, but he still sat straighter and listened as the sailor told his tale of blood and death and life. 

During some days, when the Lady’s Effort found itself on the open ocean without any wind to push its sails and the crew had nothing to do but wait until the wind changed direction, Merlin would feel afraid, because no matter where he turned there was nothing but blue, blue and more blue. A blue that ran far too deep and that was so dark, Merlin had no way of knowing what lay beneath it. Afraid because the waves could crest at immeasurable heights and the ocean was too big and he was too small. 

It was a fear that consumed him, but a fear that he was going to have to learn to live with because this was his life, his work and there was no other option for him. 

It didn’t mean he had to like it.

* * *

 

Eventually, after days and months passed, Merlin found himself feeling indifferent to his lifestyle.  

His skills as a translator were often needed, but not often enough for him to be entertained, so he grew bored and tired. His crewmates were fun and entertaining, but he didn’t share a connection with anyone, there wasn’t one he would call a friend or even anyone he would call an enemy. Everything was dull and bland and utterly boring.  It came to the point that Merlin would entertain himself by counting the number of wood planks that made up the ship and when that got entirely too repetitive to entertain him anymore, he decided that after reporting to the captain for the million time, to sneak into one of the rooms that held some of the merchandise, all that beautiful treasure that hadn’t stopped tempting him. 

In total there were three rooms that held the merchandise, the first one, is full of rich and beautiful fabrics rolled and draped in different areas, making the room vibrant and colorful. The second one had all the art and jewelry, all the mesmerizing paintings, tapestries that depicted battles and beautiful landscapes, mountains and rivers and pastures. The jewelry was another thing entirety, rings with various precious stones of different size and color, long and beautiful pearl necklaces, bracelets and earrings made out of gold and silver. And all the loose precious stones, waiting to find their place in the hands of a master that would crave the perfect support for them and then the rich men would gift them to their rich wives and they would wear them once or twice and then never again, collecting dust in a drawer. It was a shame that most of it would only be seen by so few people. And the last room, full of melling herbs, all the way from India and China, and stacked tins full of tea, the smell was both overpowering and alluring.

In the first room, Merlin spent time inspecting every single piece of fabric, enjoying the feel of velvet on his fingers, and the smooth way silk would travel from hand to hand. Until he had found his favorites, the long piece of fabric that was such a vibrant red it seemed to shine,  the silk that was dyed purple and the small patch of white and fine lace that was so finely woven Merlin could probably spend a decade trying to find all of the beautiful details hidden within it. While in the second one he would spend hours gazing at the masterpieces, admiring the jewels, wanting the silver, and in the last room, Merlin would spend lazy days, watching and admiring, smelling and resting. Hiding from the reality that was his life.  It was not a bad life, but it was boring and at times, lonely.

But he spends his days surrounded by treasure and gold and he wants more. 

Merlin had never been greedy, never knew how to want for things he didn’t have, but abroad the ship, watching all the things he would never be able to possess, things that would go to different people that would probably not appreciate them as much as they should, he wanted. Wanted to own and possess and be able to appreciate all the little trinkets and the grand items, he wanted to be the one that tasted all the teas, that enjoyed all the herbs on his food, he wanted… he just wanted. 

Eventually, he would have to learn to live with the fact that wanting was not meant for him. But for now, he could enjoy the riches meant for those that had been lucky at birth.

Soon, they found themselves on the islands, and trading began, Merlin’s presence and abilities were in more demand than ever and he enjoyed the work, but after every port call, he would broaden the ship and get seasick again, every time he went to the rooms with the treasure, the room never looked the same, pieces were gone and they were becoming empty, sometimes one item was replaced with another, but it wasn’t often. After some time, there was more coins and gold on the floor of the rooms than the pieces of treasure Merlin loved so much.

They had only one more stop before they were meant to restock and make the trip back to Britain, to trade the products of the Colonies with the people from the mainland, and the prospect of returning home, of returning to the dark skies and the dark weather was not as exciting as it once had been, after all, nothing was really waiting for him back home, but a week or two in port and then he would have to go the seas once more.  

That was what his life consisted of now. One trip after another, with little to no time on land, and the time spent on firm earth, spent waiting until he had to set sail once more. 

And again and again and again.

He is standing in the first room, now devoid of most of its items and holding the last remnants of the treasure: some fabric that hadn’t been sold, two tins of tea and just three vials of herbs. All the art and jewelry is gone, replaced by coins that Merlin does not like. He wants the paintings back, all the silk and velvet, he wants to watch the way light reflects off sapphires and rubies, watch all the landscapes woven into the tapestries and how some colored thread had created a masterpiece. But all there is in the room are coins. They are supposed to get new merchandise soon, sugar and some spices, but there will be no more art or beautiful things to distract Merlin of his painful existence.

He was getting a little bit overdramatic. But he felt he was extremely entitled to the fact that one day, he did not hear the shouts that warned the crew about an ambush. He truly believed he was in the right about not having heard the first sounds of the battle raging above him. And when he heard the screams, it was perfectly reasonable for him to hide instead of going up to the deck to fight, since he didn’t know how to use a sword, didn’t know how to fire a canon or a revolver and he really didn’t know how to fist-fight.

He rationalized that he would only get in the way, and tried to hide his long body behind some of the empty crates, and was just about to be completely hidden when a cannonball hit the side of the ship, making the crates wobble and fall on top of him, he let out a startled yell when one hit him in the head, making his vision grey at the edges and his ears ring in a way that had nothing to do with the echo of firing cannons. 

He gets up slowly, taking care of not making too much noise, working to move the crates away from his body (for a bunch of empty crates, they sure were heavy.) Even though the fight is swallowing every noise he could ever make, he is still being careful to be as quiet as he can. He feels bruised and a little bit dizzy, and after he manages to free himself from the broken wood, he raises his hand to touch at the back of the head and it comes away wet with blood. 

He is staring at it when the door of the room bangs open, he startles and jumps, tripping with some of the broken wood on the floor. He falls once more, catching himself with his hands. When he looks up, his eyes are greeted by a young man with hair tied back with a piece of cloth and then he is speaking. 

“ _ ¿Qué?” _  he asks, confused when he sees Merlin on the floor. Merlin keeps staring at the man, his brain screaming at him only one word: pirate.  _ “¿Estás bien? _ ” The pirate asks, and Merlin wants to laugh at the absurdity of the question. Of course, he isn’t right, and he tells the pirate so. 

The pirate brows furrow. 

_ “¿Entiendes español?” _ he asks again, now that Merlin is paying a little bit more of attention, he can hear a familiar accent in the pirate’s voice, the tanned and black haired man is a Spaniard.

He is about to reply when another man arrives, he is taller, taller even than Merlin, and his hair is a glorious curled mess.  He pushes the Spaniard into the room, his eyes roam the room before they also settle on Merlin. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands, his brows are furrowed and when he talks, his teeth grit against each other. Merlin looks at him helplessly, he is staring at the sword and his head is spinning.

“I don’t know,” he replies. And he doesn’t, everything is a little bit fuzzy, he remembers coming into the room and then not much of anything else, He reaches for his head again, because it's pounding and once more his hand is covered by the blood.  He holds it between himself and the pirates, almost like a shield, but more like his excuse for being so out of it. 

“He is hurt.” The Spaniard says to the newcomer.

“So?” the tall man replies. “Everyone is getting hurt Lance, we are taking the ship.”  and his tone implies that this is a message he’s been trying to convey for a long time and that the Spaniard, Lance, still hasn’t got it. 

“He speaks Spanish.” Lance points out.  Suddenly, the tall men defensive posture vanishes and he looks at Merlin with a curious look. Merlin doesn’t understand why the knowledge of the tongue warrants a second look, and he isn’t really interested in finding out why.  He is more interesting about the fact that while the men in front of him were talking, a loud scream had pierced the air, the syllables seconds away from being lost to the wind, but Merlin had still been able to hear it: 

_ Pendragon.  _

Suddenly, he needs to get out, out, out, out! He won’t die on the sea, he refuses to die in a place he hates, surrounded by blue and blue and more fucking blue. He tries to edge towards the door, hoping the element of surprise would be on his side, after all, he is injured and months on the seas aren’t enough to buff up a man that has always been malnourished. 

He lounges himself across the room until he is somehow evading the arms that are trying to stop him, until he is running through the hallways, tripping with rope and discarded items as well as with his own feet. His vision is blurred and that makes everything worse. He doesn’t know where he is going or what he is doing, but he is going out, and that is the only thing that matters.   

He hears people scrambling after him, but Merlin is fast, and he still is reaping the benefits of the element of surprise. So he runs until he is climbing the stairs and coming out into the open air. 

For a brief second, he is blinded by the sun, but when the bright light clears he looks around him and sees red. There is blood on the deck, coming out of the dead bodies of his crewmates, the floor is slippery with it. The ship is completely destroyed, marred with the wounds of the fight, wood is splintered, there are pieces of fabric and fish on the deck from where the barrels had broken. The flag that had proclaimed their allegiance to the Queen has been torn to pieces and Merlin feels a fleeting sense of anger at the symbolism. At the deliberate act of destroying a fabric that means home for so many of the people at sea. 

Merlin glares at the sun, at the blood, at the broken bodies lying on his feet, and he feels something inside of him break in grief. He is going to die, the sea will swallow him up and Davy Jones will claim his soul and he hates the idea of having to spend eternity bound to the oceans.  But he is done running. Done avoiding the fact that his life is now tied to the water that connects the world and that there is nothing he can do about that. So he stops, and turns and watches as the pirates on the ship approach him. 

There are at least ten, all of them are scruffy and carry a sword. Some of them are bloodied and Merlin doesn’t know if the blood is theirs. He meets their eyes, and he makes damn sure that his eyes don’t reflect any of the fear he feels. He watches as some of them unsheath their swords.

The pirates stop on a circle around him when the voice of Lance cuts through the air. “The Captain will want to see him.” he proclaims, immediately the atmosphere changes, it makes everything looks less sharp, the pirates not as ready to kill him. 

The taller man that had been with Lance and with Merlin in the room downstairs nods and then he orders “Make sure that the prisoners are secure.” he orders at the mass of men surrounding Merlin. “We are dropping them off as soon as we can, secure the booty and don’t forget to look through the crew stuff to see if they stole anything.” His eyes then turn to find Merlin's. And Merlin can read the implied accusation in them. “I will take him to the Captain.” He proclaimed. 

And it was exactly at that moment that Merlin remembered that when the pirates spoke of their Captain they were talking about Pendragon, the feared pirate, the Killer of the Sea, the Master of Death and promptly passed out.

When Merlin woke up, he was in a small cell in what he can only imagine was the brig of Pendragon’s famous ship: the Magdalene Decay, rumored to have sunk more than a thousand ships with her powerful cannons and unimaginable speeds. 

His head was pounding and it felt like something was purposefully hitting the back of his eyes with a hammer. But he was alive and, if one didn’t count his head wound, unharmed. 

He went to the door of his cell immediately, wanting to see if he could open it, but then he remembered that he was aboard a pirate ship, probably in the middle of the ocean. He didn’t have anywhere to run. He huffed and sat once more defeated after not even touching the lock. He was more trapped now that he had ever been before. At least, when he had been aboard the Lady’s Effort, he had the treasure chambers, he had his imagination and more importantly, his freedom. He has been just mere moments in the Magdalene and he already is more bored and annoyed that all the months he was at the Lady’s. 

He entertains himself by counting the number of planks that make up the ceiling and watches as the light travels across the room, making shadows appear in places where they weren't before. He probably slept for a bit but wasn’t sure. Everything was still the same, there was that barrel, and those cannon balls and pieces of broken metal, as well as some loose rope. He rolled over and stood up, looking for a bucket or something he could use to relieve himself. There was nothing. Merlin sighed internally and sat down once more. Hoping that someone would come down soon.

Eventually, someone did come down. He was a short brown haired man with big eyes and a missing tooth, his neck was adorned with tattoos that, form what Merlin could see, covered the entirety of it. He smiled at Merlin, and then left on the outside of the cell: a bucket, a cup filled to the brim with water and a loaf of bread Merlin knew was going to be hard. 

“Glad you are awake.” was all he said before he left the room. Merlin didn’t know how to interpret that phrase but decided that he didn’t have time to consider or think. He made his way over to the bucket and angled it in a way that would be easy for him to use. He instantly felt better once his bladder was empty, and his stomach thanked him for the hard bread and fresh water. 

He sat once more on the corner of his cell and waited. Now that he knew that he was being fed, he knew that eventually, someone would return, and maybe this time he would get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, here is an update.
> 
> Feedback is important and encouraged.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://exolovek.tumblr.com/) or check out my [Merlin Fic's Rec Blog](https://howshitgoes.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin didn’t get answers anytime soon. He was brought food and water every day two times a day, and someone came over at night to take away the bucket and return it clean.  More often than not, the man that brought him his food was the man with the neck tattoos. He always had a kind word to say, but he never answered if Merlin asked any questions.

Eventually, Merlin grew used to his new routine. He would wake up and wait for his food to arrive, eat, drink, use the bucket and then sleep again, only to wake up once more when the food arrived, and then he would sleep again. There was nothing else for him to do.  Not even a window into which he could gaze in despondent, or a stone he could throw. So he slept and waited for something to happen. It was impossible that he had been captured and brought to a pirate ship for no reason other than to keep him in a cell. It was a waste of resources and even though the food he was getting wasn’t much, he was still getting it. So why were they giving him rations and letting him waste away in a cell that was always chilly and that was starting to smell as bad as Merlin did? 

And then, finally one day, the tall man that had ordered him brought to the ship came down. He paused at the outside of the cell and inspected Merlin with curiosity. He then nodded to someone outside of Merlin’s view and a man, even taller and bulkier than the one before him came forward and opened Merlin’s cell. Merlin stayed right where he was. 

The first man spoke. “My name is Leon.” He introduced himself  “the Pendragon’s second.” Merlin nodded from where he was sitting on the floor.  

“Merlin.” 

Leon nodded. “We are disembarking, you are coming with us.” 

“Why?” he asked. He was worried that he was going to be left behind. Marooned on an island forever, with no one for company surrounded by the stupid sea that was slowly killing him. He was not expecting an answer but he still got one, and it was the giant man that did. 

“There is a small river where you can clean yourself. And since the Captain wants to see you, is better if you do it while clean.” 

Immediately, Merlin felt his stomach turn at the prospect of meeting the feared pirate. But a moment to clean himself did sound wonderful, and he was aching to step away from the awful room he had been stuck on for what felt like months but was probably little less than two weeks, and well, it provided an opportunity for him to either escape or see the world once more before he died.  

He stood on his legs and walked through the door. The giant man walked behind him and Leon led them outside. Merlin felt his legs shake with each step. He was exhausted to his core, even though he hadn’t done anything for days. But he walked and observed. 

The corridors at the belly of the ship were dark, not a single candle or gaslight lit as they walked, they were clean, and cared for. They meet no one as they walked, and the silence was broken only by the sound of waves and the call of birds.  They made their way out, and the sunlight blinded Merlin when he finally stepped outside. He let out a sigh. Relieved in ways he could never explain to find himself in the sunlight, he closed his eyes for a second to savor the way it felt and then opened them to take in the island in which they had docked.  It was an island like any other island. There was green was the gold of the sand ended, and the sea was clear and do deeply blue that Merlin wanted to sink into it and enjoy the salt and air. It was a new feeling, but one he didn’t completely reject. 

The island was close by, but they still had to take a ship to land, Leon and the giant man rowed until the small boat they were in couldn’t move through the water, and their oars hit more sand than the sea.

Leon stayed on the boat, and the giant man gestured for Merlin to follow him. Merlin did and felt himself shake when he finally touched land. He closed his eyes once more. Just for a moment to enjoy being on land for the first time in months, and then opened them to meet the amused gaze of the man leading him.  Merlin felt himself blush. But continued to walk as if nothing had happened. 

The sand was soft under his boots, and the way was short. Merlin smiled a little when he saw that the river was lazy, the water a little murky, but it was water, and Merlin desperately wanted to feel clean.  

He glanced at the giant man, who nodded and Merlin started to disrobe. It took him little to no time before he found himself stepping into the surprisingly warm water that reached just below his hips, covering most of his genitals but leaving the dark patch above them clearly visible. He slowly lowered his body, until he was practically sitting, in the water, and started scrubbing himself with his hands. He dunked himself in the water and frantically tried to get his hair clean. When he emerged from the water he shook his head to get rid of some of the excess water. And then returned to his ‘cleaning’.  He threw water to his armpits and then glancing around to be sure that the giant man was distracted, started washing his genitals until he felt a little bit clean and his cock reproached him for not paying more attention to it and his balls whined at him for being ignored. 

Finally, he was as clean as one could be without soap and started walking out of the water. The giant man stared at him and it made Merlin blush and want to hide.

When he reaches the place he has left his clothes he found them replaced. The brown and dirty trousers he had been wearing and the white blood-stained shirt is nowhere to be seen. Instead, he finds a blue shirt with an open collar and another pair of brown trousers, both look new and clean to him and with an inquisitive eyebrow directed to the giant man that is met with a deadpan state he deduces that they are now his. 

He shrugs and changes.  The shirt is a little big on him and the collar is long enough that if he moves suddenly his nipples will show. The trousers fit a little bit better, even though they are short on him. He decides not to wear his boots for now and just walk barefoot back to the tinny ship that would take them back to the Magdalene Decay. 

When they begin walking towards the beach a low scream makes Merlin turn in his heels to watch as the giant man pales and freezes in the presence of a snake. Merlin looks at it, and it's black coloration and white stripes instantly calm him. He walks back takes the snake by the head and throws it away as far as he can away from the scared man.

“Non-venomous.” Is Merlin’s only explanation, but the awe look in the other man never fades. 

“Thank you.”  He says and then they keep walking until they reach Leon and the boat. Leon takes a long look at Merlin before nodding. Merlin steps into the boat. Saying goodbye to the island and the beautiful firm ground, putting on his boots after rinsing his feet in the water.

They reach the Magdalene in silence. And they climbed on board. This time the deck was bustling with people of all shape, colors, and sizes but what surprised Merlin more than anything was the woman in trousers and a light white shirt that was working alongside the men. Leon made his way to her and gave her a small kiss on the brow. The woman swapped at him with her hand, but her emerald eyes gleamed with affection. 

“That’s Morgana, Leon’s wife.” The giant said. He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder with enough force that it made Merlin’s shoulder spam.  “So, don’t be getting any ideas.” 

Merlin spluttered. “I- no. I was just surprised to see a woman.” Which isn't really a better thing to say, but he still said it. 

“Perce!” a voice shouts and the hand that was crushing him lets him go. He stumbles a little, but he rights himself before anyone notices.

The lack of food and water has taken his toll on his energy, and the long walk and all of his worries had taken a high price from him.  The owner of the voice soon appeared, and Lance was suddenly next to Merlin and the Perce, the giant man. His smile was shining and he looked like he had more energy than anyone else on the whole boat, Merlin envied him. 

“Oh, hi,” he said when he spotted Merlin. “How’s your head?”  Merlin shrugged. It hadn’t hurt in days. Lance took that as his answer and then turned to Perce. 

“He is waiting.” He says and then starts walking backward and gesturing wildly so that Merlin and Percy would follow him. Merlin did, his legs feeling like lead and his stomach protesting loudly at the idea of who exactly was waiting. But there was no other choice. No place to run, no place where he would be safe, and if he didn’t go willingly he was sure that someone would make him go unwillingly.  

The walk to the Captain’s chambers was incredibly slow going. Merlin could barely look up from his feet as he walked, and he depended quite a lot on Lance and Perce for guidance towards their destination. He could feel his heartbeat on the tip of his fingers, could feel his breath gaining speed and his skin break out in cold sweat.  He kept walking. Hating the way his head was starting to ache and his stomach to turn and turn and turn as the waves rocked the boat. 

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a nondescript door, that Lance rapped his knuckles against.  A deep, accented voice, came through the door, granting them permission to enter. 

Merlin took a deep deep breath, and then Lance opened the door.  Pushing Merlin in before closing it. Leaving Merlin alone with the Captain. 

The room that greeted him was as spacious as a room in the ship could be which meant, not much. But it was furnished and there were an actual bed and a small table that was full of paper, maps and what appeared to be a magnifying glass.  There are small treasures all over the room, a painting laying sideways propped up against one of the wall, loose jewelry thrown all around, small statues delicately carved, weapons so finely made that Merlin believed that if they saw real battle they would shatter like glass and the gemstones that adorned them would drop to the floor with nothing to hold them.  He took it all in a quick gaze, and then his eyes settled on the Killer of the Sea that was sitting in one of the chairs of the table. 

Arthur Pendragon was not what Merlin expected. 

He was both older and younger than he had pictured, his hair was the color of dry hay and his eyes matched the blue of the sea outside. His shoulders were broad, and the red shirt he was wearing emphasized the size of his chest, a small leather cord adorned his neck and the weight of the locket that was hung on it made it disappear underneath the shirt. Pendragon’s mouth was… beautiful. His upper lip arched in perfection and his lower lip was plump and it curved in such a delicious way, and both of them were so beautifully colored. Merlin stared at them with an unexplainable want. When a pink tongue poked in between them. Merlin tore his eyes away and blushed. But not before he noticed Pendragons hands clutching at the edge of his sit. The knuckles white with the strength of Pendragon’s hold and adorned with simple bands of silver and gold.  Ostentatious in an otherwise simple appearance. There was nothing in the Captain's appearance that symbolizes power, nothing that screamed feared pirate, and the fact that the man that was responsible for hundreds of deaths was ordinary was a blow to Merlin’s believes.

“Do you read, boy?” The Captain asked. His voice arrogant, his gaze piercing. His hands were suddenly on the table moving papers and arranging maps and Merlin was suddenly incredibly annoyed that the monster in his head was beautiful. 

“Yes.” He replayed and prayed in thanks because his voice didn’t shake or crack. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Sir.” Merlin wanted to roll his eyes. But he complied with the admonishment.

“In what languages?” He asked. Lifting his eyes so that the ocean blue froze Merlin in his place.  Merlin suddenly found that his mouth was completely dry. He licked his lips and tried not to fidget.  

“English and Spanish, also French, but only if I sound it out.”  He felt breathless, was he sounding breathless? Pendragon gave him a pointed look and Merlin remembered the silent admonishment he had received just seconds ago. “Sir.” 

Pendragon smiled, and his smile was razor-sharp.  He nodded and gestures for Merlin to sit. Merlin did not want to sit. He didn’t want to be close to the Pendragon and his pretty eyes and his crazy alluring mouth, the fear still gripped him. No matter how non-threatening the man looked, he was still dangerous, and Merlin had to remember that.

Merlin sat. His eyes stuck to the man in front of him waiting for whatever was that he had to wait for. Pendragon didn’t make him wait for long. He took one long roll of paper and slowly started to unravel it. When it was done he passes it to Merlin, who takes it with shaking hands.  

The paper is filled with ink. There is barely any space left were words, drawings or diagrams don’t litter the page. There are different penmanship, and the ink is even in different colors, symbolizing different times and years in which the contents of the text were plastered.  Merlin was surprised by the chaotic beauty of it. After taking in the bigger picture he focused on some of the details. 

The texts are old and often studied, and it was clearly written in Spanish. Merlin took time to inspect one of the longest and continued written pieces, he mumbled the words, reading them at loud. “ _ En el fondo del mar, escondido detrás de puertas cerradas, existe un misterio que está esperando para ser resuelto. El Cielo es turquesa, el Sol es oro. Y el Océano espera a que su hijo llegue casa.” _

Merlin frowned as he read. It made no sense. When he finished inspecting the texts, he looked up and watched as Pendragon averted his eyes from Merlin’s lips. 

“What does it say?” Pendragon asked. Merlin took a little time to translate what it said in his mind before replying. 

“At the bottom of the sea,” He started  “hidden behind closed doors, there is a mystery that is waiting to be solved.” He paused to reread the text in Spanish before continuing “The Sky is turquoise, the Sun is gold. And the Ocean awaits for their son to arrive home.”

Pendragon’s face then did something weird, his eyes seemed to flash a deeper blue momentarily, and a small shocked gasp left his mouth as it formed a tiny, secret, smile. He took the paper from Merlin’s hands and stared at it. His face is still frozen in that strange expression. “Where does it say that?”  

Merlin pointed to the long paragraph, and slowly traced the words with his finger. Focusing especially on the lonely ‘Z’. There was something terribly enchanting about the paper, and some of the phrases and words he had read had only picked his interest. And the diagrams, he wanted to inspect them, learn them. This piece of paper reminded Merlin of the treasure rooms, and just like with the rooms, he wanted it.

He took his hand back, and straightened on his chair, immediately putting distance between himself and the texts, and with the distance, it became clear to him that he had to be careful of his wants. The paper belonged to the Pendragon, it was not an object he should desire. 

The silence in the room stretched and Merlin found himself at the edge of sleep. The day had been trying and long. His headache that had been forgotten while in the presence of Pendragon was returning with adamant force, his limbs feel heavy and his stomach protested loudly at the absence of food and water. After weeks of worrying and waiting, after hours of being afraid of what his fate would be, the fact that he had spent time in the presence of a man that hunted the nightmares of many and nothing had befallen him, relaxed him, and allowed him to let go of something that had been clenching his stomach. Merlin still wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him, still was unaware of why he was being kept prisoner aboard a pirate ship, but at least he now had a tiny inkling of the reason he was spared.

He spoke Spanish, and he was able to read it.  Maybe Lance only spoke it, maybe it was easier for the pirates to find someone at sea than on land that was able to read and translate the text, maybe it was pure damn luck that they had found him. Whatever the reason, he was alive thanks to the fact that the texts Pendragon was holding in his hands were unreadable for his crew and therefore, he was needed and that would keep him safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English is not my first language, so if there are any mistakes (and I'm sure there are) please let me know. 
> 
> Chapter 4 will be posted on august.  
> Chapter 5 is already written, just adding details and if everything goes as planned will be uploaded during the month of September.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a reminder that you should read the tags and check the rating for this fic

Merlin stared at the ceiling of his cell once more, as the ship traveled along the sea. 

He had been guided back towards it by Lance, after Pendragon had risen from his chair with unnecessary force, startling Merlin from his relaxed state and calling for the Spaniard through the door. 

Merlin had risen with trembling legs from his chair and had taken a step back, drawing the attention of Pendragon to himself instead of the texts.  Pendragon had smiled then, amused lines covered his face as he noticed the way Merlin had grown afraid with the call of his voice. Merlin had been embarrassed by the notion, and straightened, glaring at the captain, until the door had opened. And Merlin’s eyes had turned back to the newcomer.

Lance had smiled when he had seen his captain and then had asked. “Are we keeping him then?” gesturing to Merlin with one of his hands.  Merlin grew affronted at the question at first, before realizing that his life depended on the answer. He looked at Pendragon, his head lowered in a surprising sign of submissiveness, but his eyes were raised as he watched the pirate lick his lips before nodding.

Lance had approached the captain then and whispered something in his ear that Merlin hadn’t heard. Pendragon had nodded and Merlin saw as Lance’s smile widen. Pendragon ruffled the brunets man hair and then turned around and sat, ignoring Merlin completely as Lance took him by his forearm and walked him all the way back to his cell. 

And he has been there for a long time, hearing people moving all around the boat as they had prepared to set sail, listening to the distant voices as they conversed and ordered, until they blurred together in his head. 

The man with the neck tattoos came and went and he still lay on the floor staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about the text, but most importantly about Pendragon.

There was something about him, something about the way the man had held himself, the way he had smiled as he watched Merlin read and the way he had enjoyed Merlin’s fear. There was something in the way his lips curled and his eyes flashed when he had finally depicted what the text said. There was something in how his hands had looked as they unraveled paper, as they gripped the chair, the way his hair had fallen on his forehead, the way it curled up on some places. The was something. Just something about the man that called for Merlin. Something that screamed at Merlin, stay, look, his. Something that was encouraging to take, obey, posses.  It was driving Merlin crazy, and worse, it was making him hard. 

Merlin was buzzed with unreleased tension, his hands hurt from where he was clenching them in an effort not to touch, to contain his desires. He was staring at the ceiling, and he was thinking about Pendragon, of his pink and beautiful lips would feel on Merlin’s body,  about his eyes, about fucking Pendragon, about Pendragon fucking him. And he was also thinking about how his fantasies were going to someday get him killed. 

It didn’t stop him from finally caving and reaching inside his new trousers to touch himself.  The moment his fingers wrapped themselves just below his cockhead he stifled a moan, biting his lips in an attempt to keep the noises down. It felt glorious as he slowly, so fucking slowly that it was almost torture, he lowered his hand until it reached the base of his cock and then took it up, up and up, until he wasn’t touching himself at all. He then lowered his fingers, and grazed them against his slit, taking some of the pre-cum that was already leaking out of him and spreading it all around his dick, making the slide of his hand a thousand times easier. He tugged on his cock, with the utmost care to make the smallest amount of noise possible as he pleasured himself. In his mind, he could see Pendragon, could picture the way he had licked his lips and how his shirt had shown his muscled chest that was adorned with a fine dusting of chest hair. He could see his perfect lips in his mind and he could imagine, oh how could he imagine, how perfect they would feel against his. 

Merlin cums with a silent shout and pictured how beautiful Arthur Pendragon would look covered in Merlin’s cum. 

Merlin’s routine abroad the Magdalene changes after his meeting with the Captain. 

He is finally put to work, there is always someone watching him while he works, following on his steps as he transverses the ship with a mop and bucket in hands. Doing his best to not step on anyone's toes, or get in the way.  Merlin is surrounded by pirates and no matter how civilized and nice (Merlin doesn’t want to say kind, but it's what they are) they behave towards him and towards each other, they are still killers.

Eventually, Morgana is the one that is one assigned to watch him as he works, and she proves to be a different minder than the lasts. She talks to Merlin as she braids her hair only to let it loose seconds after she has finished. Tells him about the people aboard the ship.

She tells him that the man with the neck tattoos is called Will and that he doesn’t look it but is shy. That Leon is the second in command, but when he is unavailable is Gwaine, a man Merlin has yet to meet, are the one people turn to for orders. That the cook is named Gaius and that there is a rumor that he is older than the sea itself. She talks about Lance, whose real name is Lancelot, and the woman he left on an island because he believed himself inferior.  She warns him to not be intimidated by Perce, who is really called Percival, that he looks and acts tough but in reality, is sweeter than sugar. She gestures to different people and gives Merlin their names but he forgets them soon as Morgana finishes pronouncing them 

Merlin learns as she talks, that Morgana is always the exception rather than the rule.  She is the only woman on the crew and she is respected. No one looks at her body when they talk to her, even if her white shirt is so thin that the shape of her breast and the color of her nipples are clearly visible, and that respect is not only derived by the fact that she is Leon’s wife, but also because her mind is as sharp as the sword she carried on her waist, and she knows how to use both as well. 

Merlin listens to all of the information she gives and tucks it away in the back of his mind. Desperate to know more about his captors and trying to understand why the text Pendragon had made him translate was so important. 

Morgana is once again setting her hair loose when a sharp whistle pierces the air, the black haired woman turns to the source of the noise and then she lets out a short whistle in reply.  Morgana lets her hair drop, it's still held together by the remnants of her braid, she gestures to Merlin to follow her and Merlin leaves the mop he was using propped against the wall and does. 

Captain Pendragon is at the helm, giving directions to the man that had the wheel in hand.  His eyes fixed at one distant white point in the horizon and his lips are twisted into a smirk.  There is something dangerous flashing on his eyes, like predators eyes, and Merlin somehow knows that the white spot on the distance is a ship, or in more accurate words: the next prey.  He walks to the rail, and stays there, close enough to eavesdrop, but far enough that his presence doesn’t feel like an intrusion. 

“You wanted to see me?” Morgana asks, she sets her hands on her hips and looks up to Arthur.

“It's your turn to volunteer,” Arthur says. Morgana grins in response and starts taking off her shirt.  Merlin averts his gaze, the thin fabric hadn’t preserved Morgana’s modesty, but it's an entirely different thing to see her pale skin completely bare and her nipples pebbling with the wind.  “Remember that you won't be able to fight.” 

“Yes, yes, I know, just do it.” Merlin tries to keep his gaze averted, but his curiosity proves to be bigger than his desire to preserve Morgana’s non-existent modesty. Morgana finishes walking the distance and stands in front of Arthur, Arthur for his part, takes a knife that he had on his boot and makes a cut Morgana’s neck, just above the spot where the neck meets the shoulder.  No one but Merlin is alarmed by the turn of events. The man at the helm doesn’t even twitch and Morgana makes no noise while the knife cuts into her skin, but her face does form a grimace. 

When the blood starts to drip is when things get really fucked up.  

Merlin watches as Arthur lowers the knife and makes another cut on the other side of Morgana’s neck, he then brings a cup to one of the sides, and his mouth to the other.  He sees the way Morgana’s blood starts to drip into the cup and how Arthur starts to what could only be called drinking from the other.  

There is something twisting on the inside of Merlin’s stomach at the sight, and he gasps as he sees Morgana start to loose her color and footing. Swaying with the blood loss, but her face is the only thing that convinces Merlin not to interfere. No matter how powerful and scary the Pendragon is, Merlin isn’t the type of person to let those that need help save themselves. 

Morgana looks the same way freshly fucked whore look when they are buzzed with opium, it's both arousing and terrible scary, but there is no sign of pain or distress, so Merlin holds himself back and watches the Pendragon’s mouth as it becomes tainted red with the blood of the almost unconscious woman on his arms. 

He finally stops, and lowers Morgana to the floor, where she remains motionless but for the rise and fall of her breasts.  One of the many crewmen come and carry her away until she disappears from view. 

Arthur’s lips and teeths are red, as well as part of his neck were blood had dripped into, but is not the blood that proves to be alarming. It's the eyes of the feared pirate that make Merlin take a step back.

Arthur Pendragon has blue eyes. He isn’t meant to have blue eyes that shine with gold and silver, eyes that seem to be illuminated with gaslight. Pendragon doesn’t have pupils that big. But at the moment, he has.

It's unnaturally beautiful and extremely terrifying. 

Arthur walks towards were Merlin is, and stands next to Merlin, watching him. Merlin watches in turn, and sees that somehow, Arthur’s skin looks tougher and more golden with hidden shades of blue and his hair brighter. He watches as Arthur slowly, ever so slowly starts to tip the cup into the ocean and watches as the sea swallows Morgana’s blood.  

And then Arthur starts to whisper so quietly Merlin doesn’t get to hear what he is saying even though they are inches apart. As Arthur talks, Merlin starts to notice that the few settlers of blood that had been lost at the sea seem to multiply and then triple, until the blood underneath the ship turns pink and then red. Forming a puddle of blood underneath the ship that was rapidly spreading. Merlin watched in awe as the blood started forming a trail that leads to the nearing point in the distance that was coming closer. It didn’t feel like it, but the Magdalene Decay was moving faster than before and gaining speed with every mumbled word coming out of Arthur’s mouth. 

For Merlin, this simple act clarified many things in his mind.  

His mother had long ago warned him that the sea held many secrets, this was but the confirmation. 

When Arthur finished talking his eyes were still naturally lit, but his pupils had returned to their normal size. He smiles at Merlin with his bloodstained mouth and then shouts: “GET READY TO BROAD.”  

The crewmen cheer, and a flurry of movement overtakes the ship. The wild energy and anticipation of the crew makes Merlin’s blood pump in frenezzy, but he still isn’t a fighter. 

“Follow me.” Arthur orders and gestures Merlin to walk with him. Merlin does and he feels the stares of the crew land on him as he walks. “Do you know how to fight?”  the voice of the captain is arrogant but distracted his mind clearly preoccupied by the upcoming fight. 

“No.” Merlin replies, he is a little distracted and doesn't notice that Arthur has stopped until he bumps into him, his mind is still processing everything that had just happened. That was magic, there was no denying that it would be impossible to do it with the many evidence he had before him. Namely one: Arthur Pendragon. He still was almost shining with gold and something about the way he carried himself had changed drastically.  

“No, sir.” Arthur says, his back is still to Merlin but he had turned his head to the side to glare at the man. His eyes are still so very blue. 

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Sir.” 

“Then you will be only a hindrance.” Arthur starts leading Merlin to his cell and Merlin goes along without another option. Walking as loudly as he could just to be annoying but being careful to avoid the crewmen that are passing them.  “What can you do then, if you can’t fight?” 

Merlin wants to hit the man. He already proved to be versed in languages, he can write, read and even do sums, he might not be able to fight but he has other abilities.  He is saved from having to answer when Lance comes running over until he spots Arthur. He is breathless, but he says one word. “Morgana.” and then he takes of running, Arthur skin loses some of his still golden hue and he stares looking more blue. Arthur follows after Lance at full speed and Merlin, without stopping for a second to think about what he is doing, follows them. 

They find themselves in the captain's chambers once more, someone must have dressed Morgana, because she is now wearing a red shirt that is to big for her frame. She is laying on the bed, with her hair loose and a bandage on her neck, moving erractly, as if in troubled sleep. Leon is sitting on the bed next to her, holding one of her hands in between his.  Lance is fidgeting somewhere on the corner and his gaze is looked out of the window, looking out to what could only be the fast approaching boat.  

“Report.” Arthur commands. 

“Look at her eyes.” is the only response from Lance, who is still looking out of the window and doesn't turn. Even though the order wasn't meant for Merlin, his snaps in the direction of the unconscious woman. Leon pries Morgana’s eyes open and Merlin sees as molten fire swirls in them. 

Arthur’s reaction appears to be visceral as he rushes forward and uprots Leon from his spot on the bed, he takes Morgana’s face in his hands and proceeds to look at her. Merlin thinks that Morgana looks just like she is sleeping, but Merlin remembers a different woman that sometimes at night would wake up with golden eyes. 

Something about the desperation and abruptness of Arthur’s movements pulls Merlin in, almost against his will,  driving him to walk until his hand is reaching and touching the top of Morgana's head. The moment his hand interlocks with some of Morgana’s dark and sea-salted hair her eyes fly open, and the golden color can be seen clearly. And then in a voice that was not hers, she spoke: 

_ “El mar tuvo una hija, tan hermosa como el oro, la hija amaba a su madre, pero amaba a un hombre más. Así que la hija dejó a su madre y viajó al extranjero. Ahí tuvo un bebé, un niño más hermoso que el oro. La hija regreso a casa, y dejó a su hijo en el extranjero. El bebe quiere a su madre, así que la busco en las orillas del mar y cuando la encontró, el mar no tenía más secretos que guardar.” _

As Morgana speaks, his mind is assaulted with familiar yet strange images: a boat on the horizon, a blonde child on the shore, their tiny feet buried in the sand as gentle waves rocked their tiny body, a small locket, a woman singing. A man and a woman dancing. A big empty room with a gold ceiling and blue floors. A candle flickering against the wind, a beautiful painting, a man covered in blood. His mother, crying. 

When Morgana finishes talking, the images stop. Merlin gasps and takes a step back, dragging everyone's attention to him. 

“What are you doing here?” Arthur demands, simply deciding to focus on a riddle he is more likely to solve. Instead of focusing on the Morgana shaped one.  

Merlin doesn’t have a real answer for that, he doesn't know why he had followed the Captain and Lance instead of just going to his cell and laying down. Yes, Morgana had been nice to him and had talked to him as if he was an actual human being, but Merlin really didn’t have a relationship with the woman beside prisoner and guard, but still he had come, without a hint of hesitation.  Instead of directly answering the question (is that the only way Captain Pendragon can have a conversation? Asking questions and ordering responses? It seems like that is the only pattern of conversation Merlin has overheard or had with the pirate.) “I can help.”  

Arthur raises his eyebrows, crealy non believing, Merlin rolls his eyes in response and gently pushes Arthur’s hands away from Morgana’s face. He opens her eyes and listens to her breathing, there is nothing out of the ordinary but for her gold eyes,  and her appearance is now of peaceful sleep instead of troubled. 

Merlin moves around the room until he spots a candle, and as the three men in the room watches he lights it and he places it close to Morgna’s face, far enough that there isn’t a risk of the flame burning her. 

“Is there anything else you want to tell us?” Merlin asks. The flame of the candle rises in response to the question. 

“What?” Lance asks, but Merlin ignores him, he isn’t talking to anyone inside the room anyway.  Merlin’s eyes are focused on Morgana, who still remains motionless. He notices Arthur and Leon exchanging confused glances, but they don’t speak or make any attempt to interrupt Merlin.  After some time passes and the flame remains at a constant height, Merlin speaks once more. 

“We heard you.  Thanks for coming.” The flame rises even more in response and then, by its own accord, flickers out. Leaving behind only whips of smoke that smell like apple. 

Morgana gasps then, and when she opens her eyes they are back to normal. 

Merlin smiles at her and then moves away, giving space to Leon to rush towards his wife. He places the candle back where he found it and then to the room at large orders: “No one can light that candle again.” 

Arthur seems to take deep offence to the order but before he can say anything, Will opens the door. “Captain, we are on firing distance.” 

“Leon, stay here with Morgana and the prisoner. Lance come with me, we will talk after the battle.” and with that, the Captain exits the room, Will and Lance following him. Merlin busies himself with arranging the candle and placing it next to the bed. After that is done he moves around the room, his blood buzzing against his ears. 

Morgana’s words keep ringing in his mind, familiar and yet unfamiliar. He had heard them before after all, there were only to differences, one was the language in which the words had been spoken, the second was that his mother had told him the exact same thing plenty of times before.

The battle ended as it began: suddenly. 

Merlin absentmindedly listens to the sounds of the fight and the shouts of the dying as he stares in turns at the candle and the couple on the bed, his mind turning over and over again with the information he had gathered in the afternoon. Everything is a confused mess of moments and with each one had different levels of relevance so it was difficult to order them depending on their importance. He isn’t sure in what he should focus, so he focuses on nothing and everything at the same time, trying to form a pattern or a rhyme or even a reason for everything so that it can fit neatly in his mind instead of being the bloody mess it is. 

But he can’t do it. So his eyes stay focused on the candle and he listens to the distant orders and shouts coming from the deck. From what Merlin hears the battle is won by the pirates the moment they board the other ship and then it's just them catologin their booty and transferring the merchandise and the stolen items into the Magdalene. 

There are many things Merlin should focus on, but he keeps coming back to his mother’s words, she had told him many times before  _ the sea has many secrets and those secrets are not for you to know. _   But she would always follow that statement with:  _ not yet at least.  _  From what Merlin could gather, it was his time to know, to find and to learn the truth about the sea. 

Captain Arthur Pendragon returned to his cabin with blood drenching his clothes and adorning his mouth, his sword was dripping with it as he entered his chambers and immediately focused his blue eyes on Merlin, who was still sitting on the floor and staring at the candle with glossy eyes lost in thought. 

It was only when Arthur cleared his throat that the prisoner turned his eyes towards the captain. Something inside of Arthur was fronted by the need to call attention to himself. He casted an imposing figure, his name usually evoked fear and disbelief.  He was richer than some kings, had killed more men than many soldiers and he was someone to be respected. He was the Killer of the Sea, the Master of Death, he was not someone who had to  _ clear his throat  _ so that his own prisoner would pay attention to him. 

But apart from the little stab at his ego, he had more important things to worry about when it comes to Merlin than a lack of attention or poor manners or a lack of  respect for his betters or the pull he had felt on his core when Merlin’s fucking eyes and that way they had focused on Arthur’s mouth when they had met, or the strange grace of his movements or just how delectable his legs looked or would look around Arthur’s waist as he fucked into Merlin’s warm and willing hole. 

He was getting of topic. 

“Well?” Arthur asked. “What the fuck was that all about?”  He watches as Merlin’s eyes lost their glossines and focused on Arthur. The eyes of the prisoner widen when he took in Arthur’s bloody clothes, but he didn’t comment or otherwise react. Merlin straightened in his place and then he started speaking.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” Merlin said. He put one of his hands over his mouth and turned away.

“Try.” Whispered Leon from the bed. He was brushing Morgana’s hair with his hand, arranging it in a way Arthur new Morgana prefered. She looked a lot better than before, still pale and weak with blood loss but nothing out of the ordinary.  Merlin took a shaky breath, nodded to himself and started speaking, his gaze turned to Morgana, and spoke.

“Mum used to get nightmares, back when we still lived in Britain,  she would wake up at nights in cold sweat and the exact same thing that happened to Morgana would happen to her. The gold eyes, the creepy voices… everything. She wouldn’t remember anything after… well after whatever the hell that happened.” Another shaky breath. “Later, after some years had passed, I noticed the candles, don’t ask me how or why I noticed, but I did. They seemed to respond depending on the questions I asked, after some time, years really, it became easy just to ask whatever the hell  _ that _ is if it was done talking. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn’t, but it would always say the same thing. The exact same thing Morgana said actually, only my mum would say it in english.” 

“What did I say?” Asked Morgana. 

“ _ The sea once had a daughter as beautiful as gold, the daughter loved her mother, but she loved a man more. So, the daughter left her mother and traveled abroad, where she had a baby, a boy more beautiful than gold. The daughter returned home and left her baby abroad. The baby wanted his mother, so he looked for her at the shore and when he found her, the sea had no more secrets to hold.”  _

Arthur took a step back without meaning too, but thankfully nobody noticed, Morgana, Leon and Merin started talking amongst themselves, mostly asking more questions or giving clarifications, but Arthur was focused on other things, mainly on the fact that the words Merlin had heard growing up, the words that had come out of Morgana’s mouth, were all about him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of Rape.   
> For more information check the Author's note bellow. Beware of Spoilers

Merlin didn’t notice that Arthur remained quiet during his questioning, he didn’t notice when he subtly ordered Leon to leave the room with Morgana, but he did notice when he started taking off his bloody clothes and leaving behind the items all over the room. Exposing his incredible chest and the locker he always seems to be wearing.

“Is there anything else you would like to share?” Arthur asked Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Do even know how to have a conversation that doesn’t start in a question?” Merlin asked in return and then as an afterthought added: “Sir.” When Arthur just glared at him for what felt like hours. Melin huffed and then answered the question.“No, not really. Mum was scary when she got like that but… well, it was life. It was a normal”

“Is that why you weren’t scared by what happened at the quarterdeck?” The captain asks, going to the basing with water, where he proceeds to clean his neck and hands with a wet rag. He looks nonchalant enough, but Merlin can see the tension on the captain’s back, almost feel it himself with how tight the captain is holding himself. Merlin doesn’t even know how to answer that.

He had been scared, it was not natural or normal to watch as a man feared though the seas drink the blood of a crew member until she was unconscious, even if she had volunteered, and then use that same blood to perform some kind of ritual to help move the Magdalene faster than Merlin believed to be possible. He had been scared, more than he had even been on his life, but that fear, instead of paralyzing him or making him want to run, only made him want to stay and learn more. He might also have been just a tiny bit aroused by the display. But that was unimportant and a little bit sick if Merlin thought about it.

“I was scared.” was Merlin’s summarized response. Arthur didn't seem to believe him, so he added “I was, but maybe I was more curious than anything else. What was that?”

Arthur remained quiet while he dressed, fiddling with the locket that hung from his neck before putting on a new piece of clothing when he finally had clothes he turned around and sat on the bed.

“A ritual.” Merlin made a gesture for Arthur to continue. “Many years ago, I met a man who could control the seas with sacrifices, he taught me that the sea always wants something in return for its help and protection, so I learned how to give to the sea what it wants so that it can give me what I want. In this case, I wanted speed and the sea wanted blood, so I gave it to it.”

“It doesn’t explain why you drank Morgana’s blood” Merlin pointed out. Merlin watched as Arthur’s face transformed for a second, into an expression he could pinpoint, but then the same neutral face was back.

“It does, it's part of the ritual. There are steps you have to follow, things that have to happen before the sea gives me what I want. Me drinking blood is just part of it.” Arthur said defensively.

They picked Merlin’s interest. Both the reason for the ritual and the fact that Arthur was hiding something, but he knew that probing into it would result in Arthur shutting down and sending him back to his cell, so he kept quiet.

“I want to know more about what happened to Morgana,” Arthur said before Merlin can ask anything else or change the subject. But Merlin nods and rearranges himself in the floor so that his back is pressed against the bed.

“What do you want to know?” Merlin asks and looks up at Arthur. The angle is weird, but even when he can only see part of the captains face, only see the last vestiges of the glow that had made the man look golden, Merlin still thinks that Arthur is beautiful. Arthur smiles a little at Merlin from the position he is in and Merlin feels like he is dying as his heart skipped several beats.

“What do you think it means? The prophecy I mean”

The question surprises Merlin, he had never really thought about it in terms of it being a prophecy (not even in terms of it meaning something). For him, his mother’s words had been both a nightmare and a bedtime story. He had heard it for years as he grew up, until one day his mother had simply stopped, he didn’t usually think back about it because any memory that involved his mother hurt. She had died just two years ago and everything that her memory touched still ached. But it was interesting to think that maybe, just maybe, what he had viewed as normal for all his life actually meant something. He took just one moment to remember the words he knew from memory, it seemed that more than anything, the words referred to a love story.

“I think it's a love story.” was what he said instead of his complicated thought process that involved the rearranging of his memories and early life into something that fits with the new information that his mother might have possibly been either possessed or a seer.

He wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

“How come?” Arthur asks. And there is a question again instead of a normal sentence.

“I mean… this daughter she left her home for the man she loved, had a son with him and then returned to the mother she loved. And the baby or well the son is looking for his mum and according to the prophecy or whatever he is going to find her.” At that, Arthur smiled, and his entire face changed.

Merlin truly and deeply believed that Arthur was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, but at that moment he knew that for him, no one’s beauty ever could compare to the way happiness molded Arthur’s face into something out-worldly beautiful. His eyes crinkled and his lips stretched and his nose scrunched, rearranging his face until he was completely breathtaking.

“May I ask a question?” Merlin said, hoping that his face was not as red as he felt. “Other than this one, of course.”

“I can’t promise I will answer,” Arthur said, crossing his legs. He was still fiddling with his locket once more.

“That’s fine.” Merlin hurries to reassure. “Those texts you showed me some days ago, what are they?”

Arthur looked at Merlin then, as if Merlin was a puzzle that he wanted to solve, he must have come to a solution he liked because he nodded to himself.

“Notes made by old sailors who were looking for the same thing I am.”

“And what is that?” Merlin asks, his voice uninterested trying to hide the immense curiosity and longing he is feeling, he needs to know what those texts mean, what they say with an intensity that is borderline ridiculous. He shouldn’t care about it as much as he does, his curiosity shouldn’t be that high and his need, his need to know shouldn’t feel so strange or unfamiliar. But his heart is beating too hard and his palms are sweating with the anticipation of Arthur’s answer.

Arthur, the asshole, replies “None of your business.” and proceeds to escort him back to his cell. Night had fallen while Merlin had been distracted and there aren’t any lit candles on the hallway, he does his best to remain at a respectful distance from the Captain, but it almost feels like there is a force pulling him closer and closer to the blond man, until they are walking side by side in a too narrow path, their shoulders brushing with every step and Merlin knows he should step back, it's probably irritating to have your prisoner touching you, but Merlin just can’t stop, and Arthur doesn’t push him back or screams at him or anything, he just keeps walking, lost in his own thoughts. Merlin couldn’t help but wonder, wonder about the alluring and beautiful smell coming out in waves with only one possible source, wondering about how Arthur’s lips could state against his own, wondering why he was so attracted to a man that had recently been covered in the blood of innocent people.

And so they walk, and Arthur doesn't stop to answer any of Merlin’s additional question but there is a curious look on his eyes that remains there until he turns the lock of Merlin's cell into place, one that mirrors Merlin’s own.

Arthur leaves Merlin alone in the dark cell with a whispered goodnight, but he also leaves Merlin with a million questions swirling around his mind, questions that he knows won’t get answered for a long time.

* * *

Captain Arthur Pendragon shook his head as he exited the brig, making his way back to his cabin after dropping off Merlin in his cell. The man puzzled him. Something about him, about the way he portrays his emotions, was familiar but he couldn’t place why. The way he moved, the quiet but yet undeniable confidence and the way his tongue would poke out of his mouth, trying to provoke Arthur into doing something about the disrespectful muscle and that stupidly alluring mouth. It was something about how he had asked his questions, pointed and uninterested, right to the center of the matter at hand. The way Merlin’s questions were all so precise. Just something.

And Arthur was going to solve this new puzzle.

Well, after he finished solving the one already laid out in front of him.

He had been looking for a clue, for a hint, for something that would make sense and help him find the way to the ultimate treasure, and after years of searching for the hint that would open up the search, he had found it in Merlin.

Men after men, woman after woman, they had all tried reading the texts, the old words captured into a paper by old men and experienced sailors, and none had understood it. Some of the men Arthur had ‘enlisted’ to help had exclaimed that it was cursed, others that it was written in a different language, for years, no one had been able to read it and Arthur had grown more and more frustrated as he struggled to uncover the clue that would lead him to his long-awaited and long searched treasure.

And Merlin didn’t know how important and essential he was. He didn’t even question why Lancelot hadn't read the text himself or why they had essentially captured a man that, if Leon was to be believed, had been hiding in the treasure room while his ship was under siege.

Once in his room, Arthur undressed once more and made himself comfortable on his bed, it was customary that after an attack, the crew under Leon or Gwaine's watchful eyes would organize the goods stolen. No one would dare steal anything, the punishment wasn’t worth it. And it was easier for Arthur if the treasure was organized before he looked over it, and if Arthur job was easy, it meant that his men (and Morgana) got their money sooner and everyone was happier.

His mind drifted as he waited for sleep to claim him. Merlin’s earlier words, or rather, Morgana’s, still rang in his head, keeping him from peacefully drifting into sleep. That, combined with Merlin’s odd behavior and distinct way of portraying his emotions meant something and Arthur wanted to figure it out.

He didn’t know precisely how his brain made the connection, how it jumped from odd to magic to the simple fact that maybe, probably, Merlin was an empath, and the reason the way he portrays his emotions were familiar, was because that was how Arthur did it. But once that fleeting thought crept into his mind, it was impossible to ignore the truth of the statement.

It made Arthur grin, thinking about how useful and empath could be, able to absorb and distribute emotions, they were an incredibly valuable weapon during a battle, they could make or break one in a single second, and Merlin appeared to be powerful. His exaggerated curiosity, the way he had picked up Arthur’s mannerisms in two short meetings, all of it pointed to a man that was able to control others emotions with ease. It also pointed to an untrained empath, and that could be dangerous, both for Merlin and for his crew. Merlin could potentially succumb to other’s emotions, unable to process them and could grow hysterical. He could absorb too much anger and go into a killing spree, or too much sadness and kill himself, too much happiness, curiosity or envy could also be troublesome.

With an exasperated grunt, Arthur got up from his bed, he needed to talk to Gaius, the old cook could potentially be able to train Merlin, he had trained Balinor after all, it was a shame what had happened to him, but Arthur didn’t want to dwell on it.

On his way to Gaius, he realized that his hurry to tell Gaius was unfounded, he didn’t know for sure that Merlin was an empath, he didn’t have any prof nor any concrete evidence or behavior that was making him suspect Merlin. He would have to wait, and watch Merlin even more closely that he was doing now.

Arthur smirked… watching Merlin was no hard task.

The man was beautiful, there was no denying that.

He had looked beautiful when Arthur had first seen him, half-starved, dripping blood and deeply unconscious. Percival had been the one that carried him abroad the ship, slugged over the massive men’s shoulders. Arthur and Leon had arrived as the man that Percival carried were carefully laid down on the floor. The man, Merlin, had long arms, long legs, long everything. He was pale in a way men that worked at the sea rarely were, his hair was padded down with blood, but it still looked soft, but not as soft as his plump lips did. His eyes were fluttering, and the movement made his eyelashes look even darker and more curled than Arthur thought humanly possible, something inside of Arthur had ached when he took him in for the first time, that same ache had been the thing that had driven him to order Percival and Leon out of the room.

He had spent hours just watching the unconscious man, cataloging every noise he made, all the tiny, unconscious movements, until the man groaned and Arthur believed that he was about to wake up.

Arthur took his leave hurrying to his chambers to relieve the deep ache that had found its way to his lower back and thighs, making him shake in arousal. On his way, he had ordered Will to give the prisoner some food and water, along with an empty bucket.

On his chambers, Arthur had to make haste to remove his pants, freeing his dripping and needy cock. It had sprung free and it had demanded with unprecedented want for Arthur to touch it, to play with it.

Arthur had complied with the demand, his hand had wrapped at the base of his cock and had tugged in a way that felt both pleasurable and painful. He had taken his time, playing with the base of his sensitive cockhead, caressing his balls, fantasies of the unconscious man playing on his mind, overlapping each other until Arthur was not thinking because he was cumming in a completely explosive way, the noise he was making probably traveling to some of his crew. But he did not care.

Arthur remembered how he had stumbled to his bed and just tried to process everything that had happened but was unable too.

And then he had met the man, freshly washed and conscious, the man had looked at Arthur and it has made his toes curl with want, had made him clench his hands against his chair in an effort to control his visceral reaction to the man. And Merlin's eyes... Arthur was not a religious man, but he had thanked god for arranging time and space so that Arthur could look at them now.

Yes, watching Merlin makes sure that the man was an empath would be his pleasure.

* * *

More days passed and Merlin felt himself beginning to drift the same way he had done abroad the Lady’s Effort, his mind keeps wandering and it's difficult to focus on the task at hand. He is still cleaning for the crew and sleeping on his cell, but sometimes he is sent to Arthur’s chambers to read more of the texts and to speculate with Arthur about their meaning. He still doesn’t understand them, and he doesn’t think he will, but it's nice to have a chance to use his talents and to have conversations with Pendragon, even when Arthur got frustrated with their lack of progress, it was worth it for the times he got excited when he believed they had made a breakthrough.

It's curious too, almost nice, to know that while the legends and stories about Pendragon and his crew are true (or partially true) there is a lot about Arthur that Merlin finds himself admiring outside of his beauty and his ability to fight and lead. Arthur is wicked smart, he is kind and funny, and while there is no denying that he is a dangerous and powerful man, Merlin finds himself feeling safe in his presence, which is beyond ridiculous, just because Arthur is nice doesn’t mean he stops being a man that people fear, a man aptly nicknamed the Killer of the Sea.

A nickname Merlin knows is earned.

In the time Merlin spend aboard the ship, he comes to realize that the crew is busy all the time, they attack ships left and right, sometimes twice a day and Merlin knows they own a lot of their success to Arthur’s ability to somehow control the sea with rituals. It's also due to Arthur’s unmatched fighting abilities. The rumors were true, he could fight a dozen and come out without a scratch, he was fast and agile and while he fought his eyes would shine with a deeper blue that would contrast against the blood of his enemies that dirtied his clothes. But still, Merlin somehow knows he is safe with Arthur in a way he hadn’t been safe abroad the Lady’s effort.

There is no fighting amongst the crew, no threats of physical violence of any kind and while Merlin isn’t treated exceptionally well, he is still treated with respect, he is given food and water constantly and he is allowed to get down off the ship and wash when they dock on unpopulated islands, he isn’t made to fight while they attack other ships (he suspects it has to do more with their need of his talents than concern for his safety, but it's still nice) and he is never harassed or punished. He wasn’t treated badly abroad the Lady’s but he was ignored and mocked, abroad the Magdalene he has friends or well, not friends exactly but something similar.

Will was always kind and funny when he was watching Merlin, and even though he was extremely intimidating and borderline rude, he always talked to Merlin about everything that was happening and would sometimes share a sip of the rum he carried on his person at all times, if nothing else, Will was good company even though his breath always smells like alcohol

Morgana also talked to him often, and the conversation frequently reverted to what had happened on Arthur’s chambers and the way Morgana had felt during it. They soon extinguished the subject, but it was still nice to have Morgan talking to him. During their talks, Merlin had come to realize that while Morgana was kind and, in a way, soft, her words could cut more deeply than any knife and she was also dangerous in a fight. During an afternoon, where there was no wind and the sea was exceptionally calm, Merlin had watched as the crew assembled at the deck and started to play fighting amongst each other. Without a doubt the most honorable and best sword fighter was Lancelot, but the best and most ruthless fighter was definitely Morgana. She also used the dirtiest tricks, using concealed weapons, baring her breast to distract her opponents, blinding them with dirt and with light. They were tricks that Merlin didn’t really think of as dirty because they won the fight, and in a fight for life or death, there was no honor.

During the play fight, Leon had sat next to him nursing a deep cut on his arm that he had gotten on the latest raid. It had been the first time Leon had willingly spend time with him and Merlin had enjoyed the company more than he had expected. Leon was serious, quiet and loyal. He was more intelligent than he let on and he spent his time observing, cataloging and deducing. He was a strategist at heart, as he watched the fight he would shout out comments and advice, simple commands that sometimes were enough to win a fight. He talked as he watched, multitasking in a way Merlin would never be able to. He explained a little about the ship, the crew, he asked Merlin about his fighting experience and talents and when he had learned Merlin didn’t even know how to properly hold a sword, he had bowed to help him learn once his arm was healed. Merlin found himself feeling calm around Leon, he oozes an atmosphere of control and awareness and it just made Merlin relax in his presence if it came to it, Merlin was sure Leon could think his way out of any problem or fight. And while Leon didn’t trust Merin as far as he could throw him (the tall man was overprotective of his crew) he was still kind to Merlin.

When Leon was better, he had been true to his promise, in the morning even before false dawn illuminated the sky, Leon had come to his cell, woke him up and guided him to the deck. He had given Merlin a dull sword and had put him through the paces, showed him how to hold the sword, how to block and parry as well as how to attack, Leon didn’t let Merlin stop until Arthur had come and stood next to Leon inspecting Merlin clumsy form and bad attempts.

“The sword isn’t for him.” Arthur had proclaimed, he had taken Merlin’s dull sword out of his hand and had taken the dagger on his belt and given it to Merlin. The dagger was beautiful, the handle looks like its made with gold and silver and the blade itself it's sharp and possibly made of iron when Merlin holds it in his hand, it feels perfect, not awkward like the sword had done, when he holds it, Merlin feels free and powerful. Somehow he knew that emotion, that feeling was not originating from himself, but from the blade itself. The dagger was freedom, and there was no denying that.

“I see what you mean.” Leon replayed. Immediately his lesson changed, Merlin didn’t feel as clumsy or idiotic, he had never thought about fighting with a dagger, but the short blade suited him in a way the sword had never done. The quick, short-range attacks were ideal for him, he didn’t know if it was because he was tall and skinny, or because he was quick or because of something else entirely, but he feels good. Arthur nods in approval at the way Merlin improves.

“When we port, we are going to buy you a dagger.” Arthur proclaims, “It suits you well.” Merlin blushes at the look Arthur gives him as his eyes room over Merlin’s body, predatory. Arthur then leaves, his ass looking wonderful as he walks away. Leon coughs, and Merlin’s attention is returned to the tall man.

“Shall we?” Leon asks, and the lessons continue.

One day, Arthur is the one that opens his cell in the morning and guides him to the deck. The captain screams for Gwaine and a man Merlin had yet to meet arrives in seconds. There are dark bags under the brown eyes of the man and he smells like freshwater. He was grinning as he arrived, like an over-excited puppy wagging his tail and coming to heel before its master, his dark brown, long hair fluttering in the wind.

“Oh my Captain, did you call for me?” Gwaine asked. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“When we port, take Merlin to Elyan for a dagger. Tell him that he still owns me for last year after all that fiasco with Cendred.” and with that, the captain left, Merlin followed his departure with his eyes.

When Merlin finally returned his attention to the unfamiliar man, he found himself being evaluated, measured against a hidden standard. Merlin felt as if Gwaine’s eyes took in everything about him, his appearance, his thoughts, his past, his desires, and fears. He found himself feeling bared, open and dissected to the inspection of the rough-looking man in a way he had never done before. Merlin felt himself blush, sure that Gwaine knew all about his midnight pleasures that happened after prolonged contact with Arthur. With a smile that was borderline mischievous, Gwaine asked:

“Ready to go?”

To which Merlin replied: “What fiasco with Cendred?” his curiosity winning over anything else.

Merlin had heard that name before of course. The stories that were associated with the man were not exactly pleasant. According to the rumors he was one of the reasons _no honor amongst thieves_ was so popular amongst the pirates. He was unnecessarily cruel and didn’t have any respect for anyone, taking what he wanted with little to no thought about his victims, torturing the people he captured and raping the woman that caught his eyes. Cendred haunted the seas and no one wanted to cross his path. But then one day, he marooned his whole crew and disappeared with his ship into the sunset, never to be seen again. The rumors say that he disappeared because he had found the ultimate treasure, one that made him richer than any emperor and more powerful than them too. It was impossible to say if it was true since no one could confirm it. But the fact that Arthur had tangled with him last year meant that the rumors were fake, and Merlin wanted to know what had happened, wanting to know everything he could about the captain that had captured his attention as effectively as he had captured his body.

Gwaine snorts but answers. Apparently, Cendred wasn’t actually gone, he was hiding, plotting something. He had kidnapped Elyan and his sister last years wanting them to make some special jewelry and chains, but the crew of the Magdalene had heard and while they normally would have never gotten involved, Elyan’s sister was apparently the woman Lancelot had left behind, and while they were not together, Lancelot still loved her and had asked Arthur to rescue them. Arthur had agreed since he knew of Lancelot’s feelings and anything that served to undermine or steal power from one of his competitors was something he enjoyed doing. Gwaine also clarified that the treasure was really that he had made an allegiance with Morgause, a witch that could wield the power of the sea similar to how Arthur could do it, but not as proficient or easily. Gwaine didn’t know anything else since he tended to care less about the reason behind Arthur’s orders than the order itself. But he did tell Merlin in detail about the battles they had to engage in their quest to save the siblings, and how they had found them in a strange house, that had gold ceilings and blue floors and water canals that adorned the inside of the house. They had taken with them some paintings and large quantities of gold, as well as the grateful siblings who they set free on a small port city, were Lancelot had said goodbye to his love once more and Elyan had promised to stay in case he was ever needed by the men and crew that had saved them. In the journey that had taken them from Cended’s place to the port city, Gwaine and Elyan had become fast friends, and Morgana and Gwen were almost inseparable and even though they were no longer abroad the Magdalene Decay, they were still considered crew.

When Gwaine was done talking (and boy did he talk) he asked Merlin once more: “Ready to go?”

Merlin had swallowed and nodded, for the first time in months, he would finally set foot on a town and would interact with people that didn’t live out in the sea, he would be as free as he could with Gwaine as an escort, he would finally find himself on dry land. He found himself smiling. He couldn’t wait.

“Ready when you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****  
> _Trigger Warnings:_  
>  **Mentions of rape**  
>  Gwaine talks about what happened to Arthur in Chapter 1.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Past Abuse  
> TW: Graphic Violence
> 
> For more information, check the Author's Note at the end. Beware of Spoilers.

If there was one thing Merlin knew after just ten minutes spent in the company of Gwaine was that the man was fun. Gwaine was loud and boisterous, he was expressive and, Merlin deduced, he was also paranoid. Graine constantly stopped and looked over his shoulder, he doubled back constantly and rarely took the main street. 

When Merlin had rolled his eyes after he was made to wait before taking a turn so that Gwaine could clear the way first, Gwaine had noticed and had just shrugged,. “Comes with the job.” he had said.

“What job?” Merlin had grumbled as he followed after Gwaine when the scruffy man had signaled.  

“You know.” Gwaine said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle, “ the job.” And then Gwaine was smiling and singing a familiar song. “ _ We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho _ .” Merlin let a surprised laugh, and Gwaine continued. “ _ We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot _ .” At this, Gwaine jabbed Merlin with his elbow, acknowledging how Merlin had come to be on the ship. “ _ Drink up me 'earties, yo ho _ .” He paused and gestured for Merlin to continue, Merlin, shook his head. Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows. Merlin rolled his eyes and grinned, relenting and sang “ _ Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me. _ ” Gwaine laughed. They kept walking. 

The city they had ported on during the night was nothing special, with no extraordinary markers to make it remarkable. It was quite quaint, the buildings were clean and well maintained despite the constant exposure to sand and salt-water. The population seems to come alive as the day progressed and Merlin would catch glimpses of people going about their way.  

The only surprising thing about the whole ordeal was that Merlin didn’t feel at ease about being on land as he would have expected. 

Normally, when he was finally on land after weeks or months at sea, he felt an intense sense of relief, of belonging. Like all of his tension was released as he was welcomed home, this time that feeling was absent. In fact, he felt a little of what the french called  _ mal de debarquement _ for the first time in all of his life. And while the nausea was nothing unusual, a headache that was rapidly developing was slowly killing him.  

Gwaine was a good distraction though. After what felt like hours walking and being hypervigilant, the man had suddenly relaxed and then started talking Merlin’s ear off. The man talked about everything and could wax poetry about apples like no one before him. But he knew how to carry a conversation and was willing to answer questions, so when Merlin had asked him when he had started working for Arthur the answer had come freely and without an inch of hesitation.

“I was there when he took the Magdalene’s Decay from its previous owner.” Gwaine had said ruefully. “Valiant was a horrible man, and I’m glad that we mutinied for Arthur.” 

The phrasing of the sentence was surprising, not  _ with _ but “For Arthur?” 

“Yes.” Gwaine replayed, he then proceeded to evaluate Merlin like he had done when they were aboard the Magdalene, he came to a positive conclusion because he continued unprompted. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Arthur was just a cabin boy when he took the Magdalene. Valiant, took an interest in him. Arthur was just fifteen.” Gwaine signaled for Merlin to continue walking. “I still remember how he looked perfectly. All scrawny limbs and hopeful about the future, in love with the ocean in a way few of us are.” They kept walking, avoiding the curious glances of the woman walking together towards the market. “We mutinied because Valiant had taken Arthur to his cabin to rape him. Leon and I actually saw Valiant dragging Arthur to his chambers. There was nothing we could do alone, not when there were crewmember loyal to Valiant. But Arthur had endeared himself to almost everyone else, and when Leon broke the news to the other’s, we all took arms.” Gwaine shook his head at his own story. “We were almost at the door when Arthur ran out after killing Valiant. We practically did nothing but distract the other crew members but thank all the sea gods that the bastard wasn’t able to have his way with Arthur. It was a close call though and after getting rid of anyone not loyal to Arthur we had a new captain. It wasn’t Arthur thought, we were under the command of someone else for a while, but he and everybody else knew that he was just holding the spot until Arthur was ready.” 

They made their way around another turn, at the end of the street Merlin was able to see the smithy. They made their way in silence until they were just a building away, and the question that had been running on Merlin’s brain came to be.

“Did you ever regret it?”

"Not once.” Was the immediate response. “Arthur is noble in a way few can claim, he is loyal and respectable and he does good with when he can. That’s why we leave as many people as we can alive. Why you will never hear of a woman or man raped abroad the Magdalene. Why he has successful and mutual alliances with other pirates and with the navy itself. He is a good Captain and after everything we have gone through together, I could never follow anyone else.” 

Merlin nodded to himself. He had gotten that impression of Arthur. Arthur’s men were loyal to him, not because he made true to his promise of giving them gold, or because his crew was afraid of him, it was simply because Arthur was a good man, and Merlin liked that about him. He liked that Arthur was generous with his smiles and that he had no fear of showing his affection to his crew. He liked that even though Merlin was a prisoner, he was treated extremely well and he was being allowed to own a weapon. It was unheard of. 

“ELYAN!” Screamed Gwaine as he opened the door to smithy with unnecessary force. “Darling, I’m home!” 

Merlin chuckled to himself, even though the scream had made his head pound a little bit harder, and followed the man. Inside, the building was divided into two parts, one was clearly the forge where a black man was bent over tending the fires and the other was a display store with finished weapons and jewelry. A woman, clearly the men’s sister was organizing and cleaning some of the weapons and by the way, she handled the weapon it was obvious that she also knew how to use them. The store made Merlin feel trapped and burdened. He tried to shake the feeling off him but was unable to.

The black man, Elyan, Merlin suspected, smiled when he saw Gwaine standing on the door. He let go of his bellow, cleaned his hands with his apron and ran over to hug the pirate. The woman laughed and let go of the things in her hands and also ran over, Elyan let go of Gwaine and the woman launched herself at Gwaine, who picked her up and spun her once as he exclaimed “Gwen!”. The three of them started talking above each other, recounting experiences and asking after mutual acquaintance until it was just a rambling mess of words and questions left unanswered. He heard them mention Arthur, Lancelot, and Morgana and then different names, like Cendred and Morgause, until eventually his name was also joined in the conversation as Gwaine pointed at him. Immediately identical brown eyes turned towards him and Gwen approached him.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Gwen said, she extended her hand and Merlin’s brain stopped working for a moment, because he took her hand the way one did to a man and not a lady, and even though his mistake could have caused great offense, Gwen seemed happy about it and returned the handshake with gusto. Her hand was callused and dry, and suddenly Merlin knew that Gwen was the true blacksmith. He said nothing about his discovery and just watched as Elyan came to stand next to his sister.  

“Likewise.” He replayed and nodded to Elyan to convey that sentiment extended to him. 

“What kind of weapon did you have in mind?” Asked Gwen, she was already putting on an apron to cover her violet dress, and pulling up her sleeves. 

“Umm… Arthur said that I should get a dagger?” Merlin stated even thought it sounded like a question. He made eye contact with Elyan who smirked. 

“Well, since Arthur said.” Elyan said, his tone of voice was teasing and it implied  _ things _ .  

“Yes.” Merlin blushed as he responded, even though he didn’t precisely know why.  

Gwaine’s loud laugh joined Gwen’s. “Our Merlin is completely and uttered smitten with our captain.” Gwaine stage whispered. 

Merlin’s blush intensified. “I’m not.” He said, but even to his own ears, his words rang false. Of course, he was smitten with Arthur. How could he not? The man was more handsome than anyone he had ever seen, he was intelligent and funny and just plain wonderful. 

“Oh, Merlin, you are precious,” Gwen said and then she extends one hand. “Come, let’s get you a dagger.” Merlin took her hand and let himself be guided to the forge, leaving Gwaine and Elyan to talk amongst themselves. “I understand why you would be smitten with Arthur.” She started as she continued where her brother had left on. Blowing air into the forge with the bellow. “Before Lance, I was the same.” she confided. Merlin turned around and saw that Gwaine and Elyan were entertained amongst themselves and not paying attention to anything Merlin and Gwen were doing. For some reason, Merlin felt safe, he felt that he could trust Gwen with anything. 

“He really is pretty,” Merlin remarked. “Arthur I mean, not that Lancelot is not handsome or anything, I mean he has a really nice smile but good god, Arthur just has something, you know? And his mouth.” Merlin let out a truly embarrassing sound that made him blush and Gwen chuckle “I would kill for his mouth. And man, who gave him permission to also be kind and funny and also kind of a bastard but in a nice way?”  

“I know what you mean.” Said Gwen, and then “have you noticed his…” Gwen glanced around and also confirmed that they didn’t have the attention of the other two men before whispering “butt. One could take a bite of it.” 

“Gwen!” Merlin exclaimed, scandalized, but he was laughing. Gwen was truly a magnificent person, he understood a little bit more as to why Lance would consider himself undeserving of her love. 

“I only speak the truth, Merlin.”  

Merlin sighed. “I know.”  

They continued to talk, Gwen as she worked, and Merlin as he observed, his headache forgotten. Eventually, Elyan and Gwaine joined the conversation as they discussed frivolous things such as the weather and the elevated presence of the navy on the seas until the metal was hot enough to work with. Elyan still didn’t pick up the tools and Gwen continued to pound at the metal, the clanging drawing the conversation to a stop as the metal started forming a small dagger. 

“I can’t make a new one.” Gwen had said as she worked. “A completely new dagger would take too long, but at least I can give you a new blade. So, choose a handle, pommel, and crossguard, form the pile over there. ” She pointed to a small table, littered with finished parts. Merlin picked a simple handle and crossguard. The pommel he chose was adorned with the image of a mermaid, for some reason the design spoke to him and made him feel safe, the same way he had felt safe when he was with his mother.  

By the time Gwen had finished, four hours had passed, she was sweating and a little dirty, but she wore a proud look as she handed Merlin the finished dagger. Merlin received it and grinned. It truly was magnificent, it was the perfect length, the handle was comfortable and Merlin found himself immediately attached to it. 

“It’s perfect Gwen, thank you.” He said while hugging her, in his happiness, he hadn’t even noticed he had done so. 

Gwen patted his back. “I’m glad you like it. Now, go with Elyan and choose a scabbard and we will finally be done.” 

The scabbard he chose was also simple, made of leather and without any ostentatious detail, he would be able to holster it to his thigh without risk of it falling. Elyan nodded his approval and gestured for Merlin to try it on.

He placed the dagger on the scabbard and put it on, buckling it around his thigh, like one would a belt at their hips. He smiled when he was done. It felt good to have the weapon, it made him feel safe and that safety brought confidence with it. 

Gwaine let out a whistle. 

“The captain will like it.” He proclaims. Merlin doesn’t know what ‘it’ is exactly, but he preens at the idea of Arthur liking something about him. 

He is ridiculous, beyond a shadow of a doubt, completely and utterly ridiculous. 

* * *

 

 

Even though Arthur had said that Elyan and Gwen owned them and therefore they wouldn't pay for the dagger, Gwaine left behind some gold and silver coins in Gwen’s hand above her adamant protest. 

“He would punch me in the mouth if I didn't leave something,” Gwaine commented when he noticed Merlin’s curious stare. Merlin shrugged and kept walking, his headache returning the moment he stepped outside of Gwen and Elyan's place. 

“Gwaine?” Merlin asked after they had been walking in the direction to the docks for some time. He had been feeling worse with each step, his head was pounding with unprecedented vigor and he had to keep blinking constantly to clear his vision. There was something wrong.

“Yes?” Gwaine asked, and turned around to glance at Merlin, he had been ahead, acting the same way he had acted on their way to the smithy, looking around corners, taking detours and just being paranoid. 

“I don’t feel well.” Merlin replied, dizzy enough that he had to reach out a hand to stop himself from falling, but the movement was abrupt enough for nausea to overtake him. He puked.  

“Shit,” Gwaine said he placed one of his hands on Merlin’s back, rubbing slow circles that made nausea dissipate. “can you walk?” Merlin nodded, making his headache worse in the process. 

There was something  _ off _ about the way he was feeling, it didn’t feel as if the pain was coming from within him, but rather the source was something external. It was impossible to describe or distinguish what had made Merlin believe that there was nothing truly wrong with him, but he knew it. Knew it better than he knew his own name: someone else should have been feeling this. 

It was as insane as it was true. 

They kept walking. Gwaine nearby in case Merlin stumbled, which he often did until they were close enough to the dock that the sea breeze ruffled their hair. Merlin gasped, and doubled over in pain, his headache reaching out-worldly levels of pain. Gwaine seemed concerned when Merlin puked again. “I have to get you to Gaius.” Merlin didn’t know why Gwaine had to take him to the cook, but he didn’t have the strength to argue with him. 

Suddenly, Gwaine let go of Merlin, making him gasp in pain as he fell. Gwaine was standing before him, his sword out. When Merlin looked up, he saw a willowy shadow, moving as if the Earth herself didn't want it stepping on her. Merlin blinked again, and the shadow turned into the figure of a black-dressed woman, her blond hair covered by a translucent and old shawl that once had also been black. It brought out the cold blue of her eyes and that just served to make her look angrier and crazier. 

“Eira.” Gwaine said, and his voice was shaking even though his hand on the sword was steady.

“My love,” Was her response. Bells rang on Merlin’s head, warning him of danger, even if he couldn’t see it. “how long have I waited for you.” Eria took a step forward and extended her hand as if to reach for Gwaine. The pirate took a step back and held his sword more evenly so that it pointed directly to the woman’s neck. Gwaine stayed silent, as Eira keep approaching them, completely undisturbed by the sword. The look in her eyes was crazed, her pupils were constricted and even though the air was fresh, she was sweating. From where he was on the floor Merlin could smell her. Vinegar and perfume mixing in a clear sign that Eira was not only acquaintanced with the poppy, but rather familiar with it as well. 

Merlin slowly rose to his feet, fighting against the nausea as he did, until he was standing on shaky feet, he straightened. Eria turned her frightening blue eyes towards him then and smiled. 

“Is he my new toy?” she asked. Merlin looked at Gwaine with confusion and saw what he knew to be a rare emotion on his new friend's eyes: fear. This tiny and drugged woman terrified Gwaine. Gwaine moved to the side, putting himself between Merlin and Eira. 

“No,” Gwaine said, his voice breaking in the small word. “Stay away from him.”

“Are you returning to me then, love?” She asked. Eria was still standing before the sword, close enough that when she talked the sword moved against her neck. Her cold eyes fixed on Gwaine then, and Merlin finally felt like he could breathe. Every second they spent near Eira, Merlin felt something harder pound against this head. 

“Never.” The viciousness in which Gwaine said that word gave Merlin chills, there was a dark history here. Eira pushed the sword with her hands to the side, cutting her palm in the process and then slapped Gwaine with the same injured hand, leaving a bloody imprint on the pirate’s cheek. Gwaine raised one hand and pressed it against his cheek. His hand was shaking. Merlin gasped at the boldness of the woman and fought to keep himself from puking once more when he felt another pound against his head. 

“I have told you a million times love” The voice of the woman was like knives and the effect of the blades on Gwaine was evident. “You do as I say.” She snarled. “Give me the sword.” She ordered, and surprisingly, hesitatingly and slowly Gwaine handed over his sword to Eira. She held it in one hand and started gesticulating with it “I have allowed you to play with your silly friends, but my patience has run out. You are to return home immediately.” Gwaine didn’t move, but Merlin took a shaky step forward, trying to exchange his position with Gwaine’s. A clearer picture of Gwaine and Eira's relationship forming in his mind. “Well?” She asked. Gwaine remained motionless, Merlin finally was able to take the last step that would place him between Eira and the pirate. The ice blue of her eyes chilled Merlin to the bone when they focused on him. Her rage was palpable in the air between them, and the nausea intensified.

And then Merlin knew.

He took out his new dagger and pushed Gwaine more firmly behind him. Straightening to his full height and pushing the pain and nausea down. Fighting to keep Eira’s feelings and emotions under control so that they wouldn't overwhelm him. If he concentrated he could feel the ball of foreign emotions bouncing around his head, trying to take over his brain and making him feel the anger and obsession Eira was feeling. But he couldn’t concentrate. Not when Eira's anger brought Gwaine’s sword forward and tried to strike him. 

Merlin was able to block it with his dagger and surprisingly was able to parry it with a trick Leon had taken time to show him. Eira’s anger intensified, therefore, the pounding in his head did the same. She came at him again, for such a small woman, there was a lot of strength in every one of her movements, but even to Merlin’s eyes, the moments were uncoordinated, agitated, and clumsy. Merlin just had to wait for his opening to detain her so that he and Gwaine could get to the Magdalene, to safety. 

Instead what happened was that during the short fight, Gwaine had stepped from behind Merlin. Leaving himself open and vulnerable, so Eira’s attention changed fucus and the sword directions. Instead of trying to strike Merlin, the sword reached for Gwaine. In a moment of pure desperation, Merlin moved his body to the left and stabbed Eira on the side.

The moment the dagger pierced her body, going between her ribcage and into one of her organs, the ball of emotions inside Merlin’s head exploded outwards. He fell with Eria, his hand still gripping the rapidly bloodied dagger. As Eira laid dying on the floor, the ice in her eyes dulled. She grasped Merlin’s hand in hers and laughed, twisting her face into a cruel smile. A shock ran form Eira’s hand into his, building in intensity as it traveled upwards and into the center of his body, chilling his blood and twisting his stomach until a pained gasp escaped his lips. 

He sees Gwaine rushing towards him, the pirate is crying and he is still shaking as he reaches desperately for Merlin, but Merlin is so far away and so close at the same time, lost to the sensation of Eira’s feelings running all around his body, taking over his thoughts. They stop moving at the same time Eira’s heart does, and then there is only darkness interrupted at moments by flashes of ice blue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Trigger Warnings:_ **
> 
> **Past Abuse**  
>  Gwaine meets Eira. They were in an abusive relationship with Eira as the abuser. 
> 
> **Graphic Violence**  
>  Merlin fights and then kills Eira by stabbing her on the side. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Chapter 7 probably won't be up until December (november is going to be academic hell.) 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Past Abuse  
> TW: Past Drug Abuse.  
> TW: Dubious Consent. 
> 
> For more information, check the Author's Note at the end. Beware of Spoilers. 
> 
> Friendly reminder that this story contains sexual content, for more information about _that_ check the tags.

Leon and Morgana were talking on the deck of the Magdalene, supervising as provisions were brought aboard the ship. Or rather, Leon was supervising and Morgana was seconds away from tempting Leon back to their chambers when Gwaine arrives. He is carrying Merlin on his back. Gwaine is panting, and he holds in his hand a bloodied dagger. Morgana lets go of Leon’s hand. She rushes to Gwaine, helping him lower Merlin into the deck. When Morgana touches Merlin, he is cold to the touch and he moans as if in pain. Morgana’s questioning look is mirrored on Gwaine’s eyes. Leon arrives shortly after, probably after ordering someone to take over making sure all the provisions were brought into the ship and not forgotten like that one time in Yucatan. 

Leon immediately takes charge once he sees the blood on Merlin’s clothes and the haunted look on Gwaine’s eyes. 

“Gaius.” He says and bends down to grab Merlin’s arm, pulling the unconscious man up. Morgana grabs the other arm, and together they drag Merlin below deck, into the kitchens. Gwaine is running before them, opening doors and getting people out of the way. They all know how important Merlin is, how much they are depending on him to guide them, even if the man himself doesn't know exactly how much they need him. 

Morgana starts feeling the burn of carrying half of Merlin’s weight when they finally reach the hot kitchen, Gaius is bent over a table cutting vegetables. The old man looks up, raises an eyebrow, points with his knife to the small cloth he has laid out on one side of the kitchen and resumes cutting the vegetables. Gaius is clearly unimpressed with the interruption and that, more than anything else, calms Morgana. If Gaius can’t be bothered about something it means it's not serious. According to Will, he hadn't even looked up when she had passed out after the last time she gave Arthur some blood. Or later when Morgana had come to him in tears and despair because the feeling that  _ something _  was in her head wouldn’t go away. He had just told her “When they are done talking they are going away, don’t rush them.” Which was cryptic but it had calmed Morgana. The feeling that  _ something _  was in her head was still there, but the fear and despair were not. (Gaius had that effect on people, he had been the one that had calmed Arthur after Valiant, the one that had helped them all after Balinor, he was more steady than any rock.)

Gaius kept chopping the vegetables and asked: “What happened?” Morgana and Leon turned to Gwaine, who has pale and still holding the dagger in a death grip. As they watched, Gwaine slowly started crumbling to the floor, his knees hitting the floor hard, the dagger clattering against it. He started crying and in between painfully sounding sobs he blurted out, “Merlin killed Eira.” 

“Fuck.” Leon whispered, before rushing to Gwaine’s side. 

“Fuck.” Morgana repeated louder. 

Eira was a stone-cold fucking bitch, there were a lot of people Morgana hated and she was almost at the top of the list.

It had been years since they had last seen her. She had once been part of the crew of the Magdalene and had once been like Morgana, a woman escaping the chains of ordinary life by running to the comfort and danger of the sea. They had been friends at first before Eira’s true personality shined true before they realized how poisonous she really was. 

No one realized something was wrong at first, no one saw as Gwaine withered before their eyes, caving under the constant abuse until it had almost been too late. Until Arthur had intervened because Gwaine at the time had truly believed that what he and Eira had was love and hadn’t realized how much he was suffering by being with her. It had taken weeks upon weeks for Arthur, Leon, and Gaius to convince Gwaine that Eira had been wrong when she called him a coward and unwanted. It had taken them months for the three of them to help Gwaine overcome his need for opium after Eira had forced him to consume it in large quantities daily. Almost a year, before they saw  _ their _  Gwaine again. 

Morgana had been the one that had kicked Eira out of the ship once they realized what she was doing. Leaving her without a coin on an island the opposite of their usual routes. They had gotten Gwaine's blessing, but that didn’t stop him from being tempted into following her, Arthur and Leon had to stay with him reminding him why he was doing this. Morgana had watched as that woman nearly destroyed one of her most adored friends and she was glad she was dead. 

It didn’t stop her from worrying, because Gwaine was not talking and it seemed like he was not taking it well. 

“I see.” Was Gaius response, he let go of his knife and cleaned his hands on the towel he always had on his shoulder. Which meant that he also was worrying. “Are you alright lad?”  

Gwaine did not answer, but he buried his face against Leon’s chest and cried harder. Morgana took a step towards him, but Leon shook his head. “Arthur” he mouthed. Morgana nodded, turned on her heel and rushed to get Arthur. It was a short trip, the Captain was already on his way.  

Morgana told him what she knew on the way, which was unfortunately little “Merlin is unconscious, he killed Eira.” Arthur started walking faster. “Gwaine was there and he is not handling it well.” Arthur cursed, grabbed the first person he saw and ordered. 

“Get everyone, we are getting out of here in less than an hour.” Morgana saw Galahad nod and then start to run. Arthur kept walking.

When they finally arrived back to the kitchen, Morgana saw that Gawaine was sitting on a stool, drinking some rum. Leon was next to him and Gaius was back to chopping vegetables. 

Gwaine looked up when they crossed the door and started crying again. “I’m sorry Arthur.” Morgana once again was not needed in the conversation, so she went to Merlin. He was still cold to the touch, but he was breathing deeply and someone had cleaned some of the blood from his hands, so he looked much better.

Morgana heard Arthur placating Gwaine, assuring him that he was safe and that nothing bad would happen. She was sure that later Arthur and Gwaine would really talk about what had happened and Gwaine would open up about his feelings, but now that had to be enough. Because there was another thing to worry about. 

Leon took one of Gwaine’s arms and escorted him out of the kitchen. Morgana inwardly sighed in relief, Leon was probably taking Gwaine to their chambers where he could rest undisturbed by all the noisy buggers that she called family. Morgana makes no move to follow them, the  _ something _  in her head urging her to stay exactly where she is.

Arthur soon joins her in her position next to Merlin and in careful whispers explains to her what had happened. She shakes her head in small amazement, a prisoner defending their captor, who would have thought. 

_ Us _ , whispers the thing in her head. _  We knew this would happen _ . Morgana shakes her head and watches as Arthur takes Merlin’s hand in his own for just a second before letting go. 

“Gaius?” He asks. 

“Your boy is an empath, Captain, just like his Da’.” Gaius huffed, “But you knew that.” 

“His dad?” Arthur asked, he didn’t seem surprised at all about Merlin’s abilities, which just proved Gaius’s point.

“You daft boy,” Gaius scolded “don’t you see the resemblance? That’s Balnor and Hunith’s boy.” 

Morgana gasps in surprise.

She hadn’t seen the resemblance, but now that Gaius mentioned it, it was impossible not to notice it. Merlin had Balinor’s nose and chin, and he shared Hunnith’s smile. Tears are gathering in Morgna’s eyes. Balinor had died painfully, alone and miserable in the hands of Morgause after the crew had infiltrated her house, he had allowed himself to be captured buying time for the rest of the crew to escape the witch's house. But how could she not notice the similarities? 

_ No one was to know until now _ . Said the thing in her head.  _ We had to keep it a secret.  _

It doesn’t make her feel better, but it makes her feel calmer. 

“He is Balinor’s son?” Arthur whispered, his voice cracking on Balinor’s name like it often did. Morgana wasn’t privy to the relationship Arthur and Balinor had shared. Didn’t know the details or the way it had shaped Arthur in the man he is now. But she knows that Arthur loved Balinor like a father and that Balinor loved Arthur the same way he loved Merlin. 

They all knew about Merlin. Balinor had told the story many times after he drank more than five glasses of rum. He always told the story the same way. 

_ When I was young and foolish _ , he would start  _ I lived in a port city in England. _ _ I was a drunk and an idiot and I fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world _ . Morgana had met Hunnith once, and while she didn’t think she was the most beautiful woman in the world, she was kind and had a light inside of her that shone proudly and that managed to make her beautiful in an outwardly way.  _ And surprisingly, she loved me too. _  He would smile and then he would say;  _ She was pregnant months before the wedding. But by then I was already in trouble. I had stolen something valuable to a noble. His men found me. I had to run and I couldn’t take a pregnant woman with me. _  Balinor would then get a look on his face, one that was composed of opposites: regret and acceptance _. I came back almost two years later, and there he was. My little bird. So tiny, so beautiful, with the darkest blue eyes I had ever seen. Had to go away again of course, but I kept returning and every time I did I put his and her life at risk. I would come back with presents every time, an old book, some exotic soaps, a jewel or two _ . At this, his smile would be all teeth. They all knew none of the jewels had been purchased.   _ Last time I saw my little bird he had just turned 12.  _

Arthur had asked then, still hiding behind his shell, still insecure about the loyalty of his crew.  _ Next time, are you staying?  _ And Balinor had shaken his head sadly.  _ No, last time was truly the last.  _

_ How do you know _ ? Another member of the crew had asked. 

_ Viviene told me. _  And the conversation had ended. Viviane scared everyone on the ship and the fact that Balinor and Viviane were not only friends but close friends freaked everyone out. 

It turned out that Balinor or well, Viviane, had been right. Balinor had died, they had gotten the texts out of Morgause’s hand and their search had really gotten on their way. They had never learned Balinor’s son's name, but they had sent Hunnith a letter, telling her that Balinor had died and that had been it. Hunnith didn’t want them involved with her son and they had respected her wishes. But now, Morgana wondered if the reason Hunith wanted them gone was that she had  _ something _  in her head as well. 

It seemed like a real possibility and the thing confirmed it.  _ Hunnith was like you _ . They said  _ a messenger and a message, a bridge.  _

Fuck that. Morgana didn’t want to be anything but what she chose. 

“Yes. I just said that.” Gaius replies to Arthur’s question. Exasperated with the younger man. “He is dangerous but he can be trained.” Gaius moves the chopped vegetables to a pot with boiling water and spies next to him. “For now, he will recuperate here, I want Will to help me.” 

Morgana recognizes a dismissal when she hears it. She starts to stand but the  _ thing _  compels her to grab one of Merlin’s hands in between her own, to kiss the middle of his brow and whisper. “ _ Bientôt, Cœur. _ ”  

Morgana shakes her head. The french is familiar in her tongue but the words sound strange to her own ears. She nods a goodbye at Arthur and pats Gaius's shoulder and leaves. 

People are rushing all over the ship. Finishing up so that they can leave. She should probably help, but she is tired and worried. Morgana decides to make her way towards her chambers. 

In them, she finds Leon and Gwaine asleep in the bed. They are chest to chest and their arms are around each other. Morgana snorts. Their chambers aren’t big, they have space for a bed and a small set of drawers. The place isn’t necessarily tidy, with all of her clothes strewn all around the room and Leon’s weapons adorning every available surface. But its home, in a way her father’s  _ château _  never was, in a way her future never could. 

Morgana huffs. She removes her shirt and pants and crawls into bed, behind Leon. She moves until Leon’s head is resisting below her chin, his back pressing against her chest and their legs intertwined. One of her hands is behind her head and the other reaches out until her fingers are treading Gwaine’s hair. Her mind finally quiets. Comfortable and content, Morgana falls asleep. 

* * *

Merlin wakes up in small increments. First, someone is whispering in his ear, calling him heart and telling him  _ soon _ . Then there is a hand squeezing his. A deep unrelenting pressure behind his eyes. Ice blue traveling along his veins. Until finally, with a small sigh, he blinks awake.  

The first thing he is aware of after he wakes up is that his hands are shaking. The second thing is the warm, heavy gaze of an old man. The man is hunched over a steaming pot, carefully stirring even when his eyes are locked with Merlin’s. 

“You need to be careful, boy.” The man says. “The seas are not what they once were, and they do not take kindly of people like you.” Merlin blinks in response. The ice on his veins freezing his tongue. “You will have to hide what you are, but I will teach you how to control it.”

“It?” croaks Merlin as the ice melts with his confusion.

“Your abilities, your heritage.” 

“I don’t understand.” Merlin replies, fighting with his frozen limbs so that he can sit. When he does, he notices that Arthur is in the room, watching him with his sea eyes. He is focused in a way Merlin had never seen before, not even when they spent hours upon hours reading and interpreting the words in the texts. His mouth is pursed and he seems to be vibrating in the place he is standing, He locket that always adorned his neck hanging outside his shirt for one. 

“You will.” affirmed Gaius. 

Merlin doesn’t know how long he stayed in the kitchen, sitting with his mind reeling after Gaius starts explaining to him about his father’s legacy. Explains to him that in his bones, in his blood, the ability to absorb other's emotions exists. Gaius explains the dangers that could potentially present themselves if he doesn’t learn control. The way emotions (his own or those of others) could overwhelm in and drive him mad, the way they could fundamentally change him and turn him into a parody of himself. How, historically, empaths could suddenly  _ explode _  outwards. Releasing all the mentions they had observed until there was nothing inside of them and they became a husk, driving mad the people that had been around them during such an explosion. Gaius explained that Balinor, had been proficient at controlling his abilities, but like any other ability, it was one that required time, energy and compromise to master. 

More than anything else, Merlin couldn’t stop thinking about Balinor. About his father. They hadn't been close, they hadn't even been anything. He came and went inexplicably and unexpectedly, baring gifts that belied the presence of a guilty mind. He had been distant, a little bit selfish and conceited, but mostly he had been kind. He had helped his mother in the household chores, had left behind insane amounts of money, had made his mother smile in a way Merlin had never seen before. Had tried to make Merlin feel at ease at the sea. The place his father called home. It hasn't worked. Not when a letter signed A.P. came telling them that Balinor had bravely died at sea. 

Merlin didn’t know when he figured out that his father was a pirate. He knew it was something he hadn't always been aware of, but it was a certainty he had grown up with. And now, realizing that the A.P. in the letter were the initials of the Killer of the Sea was an unexpected, but somehow not surprising, turn. 

Arthur had given him a sad smile and left the room when Gaius had finished explaining. He hadn't ordered anyone to take him to his cell or to watch him and Gaius was too busy to care, so Merlin, in shaky legs, made his way to Arthur’s chambers, following the Captain in slow, staggering steps. No-one stopped him or asked him where he was going. They were all busy as the ship finally started sailing away from the port. 

When he arrived at the Captain’s chambers, he opened the door without knocking and was greeted by an amazing sight. His knees actually buckled when he saw Arthur. 

The man was standing next to one of the few windows in his room, his profile backlit by the sunlight and he was completely naked, save for the locket. For the first time in Merlin’s presence, the locket was open. Arthur’s eyes fixed into what Merlin assumed was a picture. His lips were furrowed in thought and his eyes lost a thousand miles away. 

Merlin could decide which part of Arthur was more beautiful.

His neck was long, thick and beautiful arched as his head bowed down to look at the memory he carried with him. His shoulders were broad, dusted with moles, his arms long, thick and strong, Merlin could spend ages looking at his forearms, admiring the curve of his biceps or fantasizing about the strong masculine hands that were adorned with silver and gold. His chest looked firm and soft and perfect. Adorned with dark hair and pink nipples that begged Merlin to take them into his mouth to suck and bite. Lower still and his stomach was all soft muscles, there was no denying the strength, the power, the complete and utter beauty of all the dips and curves. Merlin could not -would not- look at what lay between Arthur’s legs. Not yet. But he did look at the thick tights and feeling lightheaded as image after image of him humping one without shame, of his gripping them to hold himself as he moved up and down, of them around his head, assaulted his mind. Arthur’s calves and feet were extraordinary as well. His ass was making Merlin salivate with a need to bite and touch, to find and fuck what lay between the cheeks. And then finally, finally, Merlin glanced at Arthur’s cock. It lay in a bed of dark curls, it was soft, nestled in between his balls. It looked, for lack of a better word, delicious. 

Merlin gulps loudly and even though every part of his body feels weak, his dick proudly showcases his appreciation of the masterpiece that is standing before him. 

Arthur turns to look at him and raises one of his expressive eyebrows. He makes no move to change or cover himself, he just closes and lets go of the locket. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. Merlin doesn’t really have an answer for him, even before all of his blood made its way to his dick he wasn’t sure what had compelled him to follow Pendragon, so he just shrugs. Merlin still doesn’t know where to look. He tries to make eye contact but the blue eyes that greet his  _ burn _ , and he keeps looking down, watching as Arthur’s chest expands with each breath, watching as his movements jostle his dick making it slightly sway. Suddenly, Merlin wishes he could draw, that he could write poems just so that he could try to capture how impossible alluring and outwardly beautiful Arthur is. He aches with the need. Aches and craves to touch. Somehow, Arthur must have noticed how distracted Merlin was, must have noticed how much Merlin  _ wanted _ . “You can touch me." Arthur said. His voice, his body, his hands were steady, there were no nerves, no outward sign that Arthur was nervous and unsure, but still, Merlin asked as he took a step towards the captain.

“Are you sure?” And Merlin’s voice, his body, his hands do shake,  _ oh _  how he wants this.

Arthur nods and walks the remaining distance that separates them. For a moment, things become awkward, the tension that leads them here dissipated and the air between them feels empty, but then Arthur blinks and lets out a small sigh and the awkwardness disappears. 

Merlin reaches for Arthur’s lip first. The Captain is more centimeters shorter than him, and he looks up at Merlin. Merlin just touches, slowly with the tip of his finger he traces the shape of Arthur’s lips. Appreciating the fullness, the small differences in texture, until his fingertip tingles and he imprints the way they feel on his memory. He lowers his head then and meets the Captain’s lips with his. His hands reaching down to trace the jaw of the blond man. 

The kiss is soft, more about exploring and admiring than passion. Arthur made a tinny sound from the back of his throat and took another step forward, drawing them even closer together. Merlin repeated what he had done with his finger with his lips, and then with his tongue. Cataloging the difference in sensations and just enjoying the fact that he can do this. 

He can also slowly follow the path his fingers laid, he can kiss his way to Arthur's jaw, and then move his fingers to his ear and kiss it too, move his hands low and slowly up ad down Arthur’s neck and repeat the motion with his mouth. Sometimes, Arhtu’s breath would hitch, other times he would let out a shaky exhale, but he remained otherwise motionless, letting Merlin explore his chest, lightly brush his nipples and count each rib. 

Merlin felt like he could barely think. All the golden skin, all the beautiful movements, all the small noises, everything was incredibly perfect. 

His hands traveled down. 

“Please, may I?” he asked, his hand hovered above Arthur’s dick, his mouth watered with a need to hold it between his lips. But he looked at Arthur in the eye when he asked. And even though his voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, it spoke volumes. Arthur was flushed, his pupils dilated and there was a thin layer of sweat adorning his face. Arthur nodded. Merlin kissed him once more. He broke the kiss to watch.

To watch as his hand, which is steady for the first time since he entered the room, grasp Arthur’s dick. Merlin’s fingers are long and they look absolutely perfect wrapped around Arthur's now hardening cock. Merlin smiles when he notices. 

It's amazing how good it feels to wrap his fingers around Arthur’s cockhead, to play with the foreskin, to touch the pulsing veins. It feels amazing to hear the shocked gasps and muffled moans coming out of Pendragon’s mouth. Merlin looks and looks, touches, admires and discovers. Arthur’s precum is more watery than his, his dick longer but not as wide, his cockhead, when it peaks form the foreskin, is bright red. After a particular inspiring twist of his fingers, Arthur’s hands shoot out, and for the first time, he touches Merlin. Arthur lays his hands on Merlin’s arms to hold himself up. Merlin  _ burns _ . 

Arthur’s hands on his arms feel impossibly right. He looks up again, wanting to see the effects of his ministrations on Arthur’s face. Just as before, Arthur is flushed, his pupils are still dilated, but his lips are bitten raw, his mouth open in pleasure and his eyes are focused on Merlin’s hand. 

Merlin can’t breathe, can’t look away. So he keeps moving his hand, cataloging every expression, every noise until Arthur finally cums. His face transforms. “Dear Mother of God.” Merlin whispers. He is sure he just witnessed a miracle. Arthur’s eyes shine with that unnatural blue that Merlin has come to appreciate and notice more often. His release is silent, his eyelashes flutter and he sags but doesn’t fall. Every single one of his muscles relaxing. Arthur recovers quickly. 

He removes his hands from Merlin’s arms and pushes him until Merlin’s back is against the door. Merlin follows, he can't do anything else, Arthur is so strong and Merlin’s desire to see what Arthur is doing is infinite. 

Merlin’s mind is a confusing mess, he is so fucking hard that thinking is practically impossible, he doesn't know why Arthur let him touch him in such a way, he doesn’t know what to think. And thinking isn’t an option when Arthur goes to his knees, removes the belt with the dagger still at Merlin’s hips, lowers his trousers and takes Merlin’s cock into his mouth. 

Merlin’s heart stops beating for a long painful minute and then resumes working at double time. His moaning is loud and the way Arthur’s head moves up and down in his cock is impossibly flirty. 

Arthur’s mouth is hot, wet and soft and the way his tongue moves makes Merlin lose his head. 

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.” He hears himself saying, repeating the name of the pirate as a prayer. His hands are drawn to the golden hair between his legs, he intertwines his fingers with the soft locks and tries desperately not to thrust into the warm heat that surrounds his cock. 

Arthur looks up and Merlin cums. How could he not? When the Captain’s lips stretched around him look so red, when the eyes that lock with his are still shining with gaslight and Arthur’s hands are holding his hips against the door? 

Arthur swallows, then stands up and smiles. Merlin for his part tries to come back into his head. He feels incredible. Every single worry he had, every question or doubt that had arisen after his conversation with Gaius, his fears and insecurities had just vanished. 

Merlin smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_Trigger Warnings:_ **
> 
> **Past Abuse**  
>  Morgana talks about Gwaine and Eira's relationship and a little bit about what happened to Gwaine after the relationship ended. It also mentions that Gwaine became addicted to opioids because Eira pressured him into consuming the drug. 
> 
> **Past Drug Abuse**  
>  Morgana discusses how Gwaine became addicted to opioids because Eira pressured him into consuming. 
> 
> **Dubious Consent.**  
>  Merlin gives Arthur a hand job and Arthur gives Merlin a blowjob both consensual. But Merlin's abilities as an empath and Arthur's role as Merlin's captor could potentially make this consent dubious. 
> 
> \---
> 
> Chapter 8 probably won't be up until February
> 
> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. It was kind of difficult to write it. I had to overcome a pretty hard author's block that still hasn't completely gone away but its not as big as before. Hopefully next chapter can be done by next month, but still no promises. Also please forgive me for this chapter I think it's not at par with the others, but I just couldn't look at it anymore. 
> 
> Feedback is important and encouraged.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://exolovek.tumblr.com/) or check out my [Merlin Fic's Rec Blog](https://howshitgoes.tumblr.com)


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